Jedi Blues

There's a reason every guy my age wants to be a Jedi Knight.

Ignoring the cool fringe benefits, like a glowing laser sword, faster-than-a-speeding-blaster reflexes and the cool little ginger beard (if you're Ewan McGregor) the life of a Jedi Knight is everything the life of a suburbanite isn't.

A Jedi doesn't need to worry about rent, or bills, or storage space or cleaning out the garage. All they possess are the robes they stand up in (which invariably look really, really cool.)

Jedi don't have wives or girlfriends or relationships. They don't need to worry about remembering anniversaries, picking their kids up from soccer practice or dealing with the in-laws. Some Jedi do have apprentice sidekicks to look after (or Padawan, in Lucas-speak) but they can generally look after themselves - and it is nice to have somebody to talk to on those long space journeys.

But the best thing about being a Jedi is the sense of purpose.

Jedi Knights are told what to do by the Jedi Council. Go to this planet. Fulfill this mission. Save this person/race/star system.

They have a goal to work towards. They have a sense of identity, purpose and importance and, even better, they're left to their own devices to get on with it (the Jedi Council aren't big on micromanagement.)

For any husband who's been dragged around Wal-Mart at 11pm (looking for an attachment to their vacuum cleaner which can Hoover Venetian blinds) the idea of jetting off to a distant star system to free an enslaved race - without being told 'you're not doing it right' while doing so - is indeed the stuff of fantasies.

But, then again, surely one of the best parts about having a child is the moment when they're old enough to finally sit down and watch Star Wars with you.