GCXZ

In 1970, the average life expectancy of a British man was 68.7 years: death commonly swept in just under four years after retirement. In 2010, it was 77.8 years, and in many cases it will considerably exceed that. The far end of life can be the most savagely unpredictable stage of all, beyond the generally balmy days immediately after retirement. What lurks in wait: cancer, dementia, isolation, the sudden, devastating loss of beloved friends and partners? Few people give these matters as much serious consideration as the elderly themselves. It was Bette Davis who said "old age is no place for sissies": she was right.

Elderly people in Britain are comparatively wealthy today, largely because so many own their homes, and UK house prices have risen astronomically. Yet unless they wish to sell up and move, the wealth trapped in bricks and mortar is largely irrelevant. In many cases, the bill for a decent care home could gobble up the entire worth of a house within five to 10 years, and many senior citizens hang on to the financial security of their homes specifically because they are anxious about placing a future burden either on their children or on the state.

What seems strange to me is the false opposition being set up between the needs of the young and the old, when in families, the elderly are often the most passionately concerned with assisting the younger generation. Who and what, meanwhile, emptied the pot of money meant for today's youth? Who signed up to ruinous PFI schemes that are crippling numerous NHS trusts, failed to build adequate social housing in the boom years, or launched an extortionate war in Iraq on the basis of questionable intelligence? Perhaps Mr Milburn could tell us.

Aside from house prices, the current economy is skewed against pensioners: interest on savings is non-existent, inflation is high, and fuel bills are astronomical. Meanwhile, with advancing years, human bodies and sometimes minds start to break down. With age comes vulnerability, and that is why any civilised society has always afforded special privileges to the elderly.

We are, certainly, going to have to discuss a long-term way to finance the needs of an ageing population. But if Milburn wants to talk about a "fairness deficit" between age and youth, maybe he could first consider the gross inequalities inherent in human biology.

Legal aid plans are a shambles

Parents, eager to foster financial security in their children, have long ushered them towards medicine or the law. Well, they still have medicine. For the independent criminal bar in this country – the aspect of the law that captures the public imagination – has been plunged into crisis by plans from Chris Grayling, the Lord Chancellor, to slash the legal aid budget. Mr Grayling now proposes to cut fees for criminal barristers further, by up to 30 per cent, introduce price-competitive tendering, and remove client choice over which barrister represents them.

The public has grown used to thinking of all barristers as comfortably off, which might be truer in commercial practice. But the pay for criminal legal aid work has plummeted since 1997. Sixty-five per cent of members of the criminal bar – involved in the most stressful, complex cases such as rape, murder and fraud – now earn a salary of less than £37,500 after paying their direct professional overheads. In many cases it is substantially less, and among the most recently called, debt-ridden juniors it can work out at £10,000 a year, after overheads, for working a 60‑hour week.

Last week Nigel Lithman QC, the Chairman of the Criminal Bar Association, said that large numbers of barristers may simply refuse to sign the reduced contracts, paralysing criminal trials. Able people will leave this demanding profession, or refuse to enter it: the quality of both defence and prosecution work will be weakened.

In short, the plans are a mess, and threaten the future both of British justice and of those who seek to deliver it. Perhaps the general public has fallen into the trap of believing that all defendants are guilty of something. It's tempting to think like that, I suppose, until the defendant happens to be you.

What comforted Marilyn in bed

The Chanel fashion house has prompted mass relief with the announcement of its new model for the Chanel No 5 Christmas campaign: Marilyn Monroe. A previously unheard recording of Monroe, who gleams even in black-and-white photographs, is being used to remind shoppers of her renowned love of the perfume.

In it, Monroe explains, in her sleepy, breathless voice: "You know, they ask me questions. Just an example: 'What do you wear to bed? A pyjama top? The bottoms of the pyjamas? A nightgown?' So I said: 'Chanel No 5,' because it's the truth. And yet, I don't want to say 'Nude'. But it's the truth!"

In recent years, Chanel has poured millions into nonsensical advertisements featuring miniature "films" by renowned directors, including one of Nicole Kidman confiding: "I'm a dancer… I love to dance", and a dazed Brad Pitt spouting a gibberish script about the world turning.

I predict that this campaign will be an enormous success. What Marilyn wore in bed might be a simple idea, but at least it is intelligible. And it illustrates, yet again, the pulling power of Monroe: the actress with a million impersonators and no true likeness, a fragile star with an indestructible wattage.