THERE are more questions than answers. Well, there certainly are in my world this week.

For a start, why is it once you reach 50 you start to throw like a girl?

It was tough enough realising at 40 I suddenly had a taste for olives, and at 45 that I was turned on by cordless drills. But, losing the ability to throw is a cruel blow indeed.

Then, just this morning, I was told June was a five-week month. It means the report can wait another week, but surely only an accountant can squeeze five weeks into 30 days.

No sooner had I heard about the monthly report, than I got an email from our ‘head of insight’. Now this is quite a job title, but what do you think they actually do?

By the time you’re reading this they’ll probably finally have the Smethwick fire under control, although I must admit I thought I had the answer to this one. Anyone who knows the area will agree a fire is the best thing which could happen there.

Will Andy Murray win Wimbledon? Will the new guy at the Bank of England save our flailing economy? Will The Rolling Stones still be on stage at 80? Will the office air-con ever work properly?

Threatening to overload my poor, inconsiderable brain I returned to the job at hand and casually scanned a pile of press releases.

The top one really shocked me.

Did you realise by the year 2100 experts say the population will have reached 11 billion? OK, 2100 won’t concern me, but by 2050 it’s going to be 9.6 billion, and that’s a rise of 33 per cent on today’s numbers.

Suddenly Murray’s achievements paled into insignificance as I realised the biggest question we all face is how to control our own population before we self-destruct.

Pondering this mighty question I launched another missile at an unsuspecting colleague and the awful truth dawned. My ability to throw is indeed lost forever.