WHEN I hit 40 my alleged friends enjoyed telling me that I was over the hill. Well now I’ve put some distance between me and that mound and last week burst through the 60 barrier.

Again the wits trotted out the predictable line: “Oh now you can get a bus pass.”

So I can – and so I shall. After all I haven’t spent 42 years pouring money through the taxman’s letterbox to allow a number of MPs to live the life of Riley without gaining some benefits myself.

It won’t be anywhere near their morally questionable milking of the system of course. For starters I have no moat or swimming pool and if I tried putting up a chandelier in our humble homestead it would drag on the floor.

Nonetheless there must be plenty out there from which I can now benefit. But there’s the problem.

When I hit the magic 60 last Wednesday what I didn’t find among the birthday cards lying scattered on my doormat was a helpful guideline from the Government letting me know what box of treasures was now opened to me.

I know about bus passes, of course – but I hadn’t a clue how to go about getting one. Thank God for Google.

So my application is now winging its way to Wycombe District Council. I already have my Senior Railcard – an online application saw it arrive in the post 24 hours later. Impressive.

However, after surfing the net I’ve found there’s a lot of other goodies coming my way – it’s almost better than being an MP. Almost, but not quite.

I can now get free prescriptions, free eye tests, free NHS chiropody tests and – if I lived in Wales or Scotland – free dental check-ups. Quite why England has been unfairly ruled out of this I don’t know.

Then there’s a winter fuel payment coming my way, I can book a ‘routesixty’ fare on coach trips – though route 66 sounds much more cool. I can also pick up vouchers for glasses, wigs and fabric supports.

I’m thinking a horn-rimmed, blond curly wig and corset-shaped six-pack look here, you understand.

Then there is a legion of offers for ‘senior citizens’ in the worlds of arts, leisure, entertainments and visits to stately homes and gardens. To be honest, after gathering all this info it left me feeling as though I was being sucked into a world of cardigans, tartan slippers and crown green bowls.

Not really my cup of tea. Maybe I should become an MP instead. I dare say there are now going to be a few vacancies and I quite fancy a swimming pool in the back garden.