You've probably never heard of Professor Jane Plant. I hadn't either until it emerged last week that she had found the grand elixir of life, the secret to being happy. Since I have always laboured under the suspicion that all it takes to be happy is to be a single multi-millionaire I awaited this news with some interest. When it arrived it was, to say the least, a bit of a damp squib.

Apparently there are four simple rules. The first is to smile a lot, and spend no money. Unfortunately I know many people who spend no money. This is why they have large bank accounts and I have not. They never buy a coffee, sandwich or biscuit yet manage to manipulate someone into buying these essentials for them on a regular basis. The one thing they do not do interestingly enough is smile. They are in general miserable sods with a disposition to match their spending habits. Ironically it is those who have no money and who spend what little they have who seem to be happiest, although I suppose it could be argued that they are merely happy in their ignorance. And then there is the teeth problem. Smiling means good teeth, means regular visits to the dentist (if you can find one) and regular visits means spending money which on the above evidence ensures that you cannot use the smile you have just suffered both financially and bodily to achieve.

Secondly it seems we have to develop a taste for seaweed or sushi or both. I presume this is something to do with essential oils but clearly our forbearers knew about this when they went in search of dulse. Ignoring the price of sushi (but do refer to above) it is definitely an acquired taste. Not the make believe stuff you get in supermarkets mind but the real thing which is like being bombarded by a constant wash of different coloured oysters (them selves an acquired taste). But the key point is - have you ever seen a happy Japanese man who had not just spent a night on the old sake? Inscrutable - yes, dignified - yes, polite - definitely yes, but happy. The jury is out on that one. It does say that if you can't take the sushi then you can have kippers or poached haddock topped with an egg and you can eat porridge but only last thing at night! That in itself has just made half of Ireland and Scotland miserable at a swipe.

Thirdly, eat chocolate. Every female in the country is now blissfully happy but as you might have expected there are qualifications here. The chocolate has to be at least seventy percent cocoa (again see expense above) or you have to substitute it for a smoothie or filtered water. And the major qualification is that if you are of low esteem you must avoid not only chocolate but also celebrity culture which will make you unhappy at the best of times but especially so after you look like the Michelin man or a Roly Poly after you have eaten all the pies.

Finally you can, if none of the others suit, get a new hairstyle, put on your make-up and go dancing. My self-esteem was low enough but at this point it has gone into an entire nose-dive. Having enough hair to be able to have a haircut would be enough without thinking about having a perm or a blue rinse and as for the make-up I wouldn't be absolutely sure where to start without ending up looking like a sushi platter. And while the dancing never was a strong point it is particularly unlikely it will make me, or anyone in the vicinity of my movements, even remotely happy.

And so I was deeply sceptical about all this supposedly researched happiness business when my misery was compounded yesterday when I received a letter from something called SAGA offering me all sorts of special deals as I now fall officially into the category of old person. I did, however, persevere to discover that with one small signature I can save literally hundreds of pounds off my car insurance, house insurance and even get holidays to exotic places at bargain prices (although I think I might have to share a room with other SAGAs which might not be pleasant for either of us.)

So despite your two years research Professor Plant the answer to happiness was staring you in the face all along. Live long enough to join SAGA, take the cheap deals and continue to behave like a spoiled teenager. Buy fast cars you can now afford, get your smile on the National Health and travel everywhere on you free bus pass. We oldies never had it so good!