Yes, there is life after the Leaving

This time last year I was one of those who was drawn into the lion's den and with a pen in my hand. The lion pounched with hunger in his eyes. I replaced that hunger with my pen as I jabbed it into his left eye. He lay down, not dead, but not very metabolised either. The emperor gave me the thumbs up and off I went to Maynooth where I drank wine and fell down.

For those of you about to enter the selfsame den, remember the lion is now 74 years old and he's not as bad as he might seem. The Leaving Cert exams shouldn't be viewed with dread and foul-smelling panic. It merely the closing chapter to your career to date.

I completed second level about a year ago and yet my mind is filled with happy memories of my days there . . . such as the school trip that took us to a hotel in Venice's redlight district or the bizarre Zadega that a few of us started whereby one of my friends was both installed as and fired from the position of God.

The time for panic has passed. Relaxation is what's called for. I spent the last two weeks before my exams studying casually by the canal in Lucan. My advice to you is to relax in whatever way you want to, be it walking in the fresh air or bathing in a suspiciously large tub of red jelly. The choice is yours.

At the same time, however, a balance must be struck. While a successful life can be had without it, the Leaving Cert will make life a whole lot easier. It will help you get that job you wanted or that college place you aspired to.

Me? I'm a dreamer. The Leaving Cert is simply one more bonus towards attaining the title of Taoiseach which I will keep for after my jobs as both an astronaut and a rock star.

The one promise that I can make you is that the Leaving Cert will be the toughest exams that you will ever sit. They get easier afterwards. I realise that now, as I try to start my anthropology exams. In one month's time the most stressful exams you will ever sit will be over and done with.

There are, of course, many incentives for doing well. For me it was the promise of a weekend with some friends in deepest, darkest Wexford. I remember waking up on a beach with a curious rat on one side and an abandoned Mercedes on the other.

College for those of you who plan on going is another incentive. I'll not even attempt to tell you what it's like - because I can't remember the year.

So, remember, tog bog e.