There are many pieces of advice one could offer the yoof of today (and of any time) - from "be true to yourself" (such ballbaggery - try some lying to yourself first, because only then will you really understand that your way is better than the highway) to reach for the stars (and now I have S Club whatever in my head - music maestro, toots!) Well, such advice is all well and good but it's so utterly subjective and often pointless. I mean, most of the advice I could impart to a kid kicking it in the tower blocks and estates of South London would be about as valuable to him or her as that once given to me by a sixteenth century monk ...
Anyway, if I was to give a young person some unsolicited advice, it wouldn't be about shining your teeth and crimping your gullet or wotnot. It would be this: Learn how to have a fucking good time on your own. If you can't occupy yourself, getting other people to do it will only make you into a raggedy annie ballbag. You are the master of your own ship, kids, so if your ship has no chance of making itself happy then what's the fucking point? What if everyone else died tomorrow? Would you be able to give yourself a merry chuckle now and again? I know I could - although obviously because I would be as drunk as the proverbial skunkery and high on sugar after the looting I would perform on the Chocolate factory and Supermarchés.
Being able to entertain yourself - hands out of your trousers young man - is vitally important. You are your only constant. Fact. So get on with the self-love. And now I have gone wrong (I only had one boddingtons, your honour ...)