As bad as rock stars seem to be at living, some simply refuse to die. And in the same report that, uhh, brilliantly concluded that rock stars are more likely to choke on their own vomit than, say, normal folks, it is also duly noted that since 1980:

“…the number of pop stars who die within five years of their first hit has halved. That’s a truly frightening statistic. It’s like that movie Final Destination. The Police, Genesis and Yes reunions were all made possible by airbags, seatbelts, Viagra and rehab. Death has been robbed of an entire generation of rockers who’ve refused to do the decent thing and die while they’re still vaguely attractive. With catastrophic results for the wider culture. Like Paul McCartney’s last album.”

Guardian bloggist Steven Wells goes on to lay more golden eggs:

“I genuinely believe that this current generation of clean living, still performing, stage hogging, liver spotted and roast-chicken-skinned baby-boomer rock performers will not only live on for decades – thanks to advances in computers and robotics they will live forever.”

Well, at least we can rest assured that Pete Doherty won’t make it to his twilight years, and the way things are looking Amy Winehouse won’t be far behind.