Mamma Mia! Aren't the stars a bit old?

A rather breathless week, not that I propose to turn this blog into a personal confessional in the hope of picking up a diary book deal, dearies. If you're a publisher you can stick your contract up your virgin asshole. No one's telling me what life to live for demographic purposes.

I attended my first movie press conference in yonks, Mamma Mia!'s, at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, formerly the Hyde Park Hotel, opposite Harvey Nicks. To get to the hotel it's best to have suicidal tendencies as the access road is dug up and barriered off and no one has thought to impose any safety regime whatsoever for pedestrian crossers: at the nearby junction you're faced with traffic in all directions, more barriers and the horrible sights of buttock cleavage of bejeaned labourers loafing about. Ever played chicken? If not, avoid.

Meryl Streep is 59 and looks 45 in the flesh, and 54 in the movie. Pierce Brosnan is 55 and looks, well, a handsome 55: he has a mature aura and is rather fractious when not selling movies. Colin Firth is 47 and with that half-hearted beard of his (not all men can grow a credible beard) he looks 49. He's funny and droll, though, and given to comic-pompous locution. Meryl wore her blonde locks in a simple ponytail, wore crystal ear studs and opted for a safe black ensemble. God, she's such a nice genius: she certainly appeals to my inner lesbian.

Arcati readers will know that I have an interest in agesim. And so while the stars' auto-anecdotes about shooting the fantastic Mamma Mia! movie were of little interest to me - I had forgotten that Meryl has a substantial musical theatre background - I was struck by one simple fact. While most of the attending journalists were about 25 - there was even a boy hack there no more than aged 14 - the major stars (aside from the teen draws like Dominic Cooper) were in their 40s and 50s (Meryl's 60 next June 22). In the film in their Greek idyll they dance, do stunts, sing their hearts out: you don't think about their age.

But consider the lilies of journalism and how old they grow quickly - say by the age of 30. The true arts of talent accommodate different ages. Journalism is run by old bastards who stick with the inexperienced and the generally untried. The contrast between thespian aristocracy and juvenile hackery was most striking to me.

Do see the film, it's out next week and is sure to please the Greek Ministry of Tourism.