IF WE’RE talking bees in the bonnet, this little honey maker’s the size of an albatross. Because I can’t stand the buzz term ‘The Journey...’ You’ll hear it used now – I guarantee it – whenever anyone loses.

Naturally it’s the 21st century’s equivalent of ‘It’s not the winning but the taking part’ yet somehow it doesn’t cut the mustard in the same way.

Referring to ‘The Journey...’ nowadays means, invariably, getting ditched from any kind of talent contest.

Whether it’s singing, performing, writing or any of a hundred other skills and disciplines, what it’s saying is: “Look, your effort and determination have been noble, but this humiliating failure that you alone are responsible for will eventually make you a better, more rounded individual. So God be praised for not giving you the talent to become successful. You’ll be the better person for it.”

Of course, said competitor then replies, on cue: “This isn’t the last you’ll hear of me,” despite the fact we know it is, and walks off into the sunset head held high.

Now why should this pantomime give me stomach cramps?

Well I’ll tell you – because it’s pretentious.

In fact, it’s just like Santander’s cringe-worthy attempt to show how ‘profound’ and ‘sincere’ their bank really is by screening a commercial for its 123 current account that goes ‘You talk, you save, you walk, you save, you laugh, you save, you bath, you save...’ That alone gives me acid reflux every time I walk past their outlet in George Street (if they added ‘You sleep around, you save’ I might actually take them more seriously).

What I can’t bear is that everything we do, and everything we are, is now supposed to be recognised – and applauded – as somehow transcendent and auspicious.

But I don’t think it is.

Yes, life is a miracle, and so too the QVC shopping channel if you can’t sleep at night, but every time I’ve failed to get a job, I haven’t felt noble or spiritually elevated – just agonisingly cheesed off (remember, this is a family paper).

And not once, as far as I can recall, have I ever felt grateful that at least I’ve had the opportunity to fail and so enjoy ‘The Journey...’.

Little wonder then that so many of us are being prescribed mood-altering medications (me included).

Because sometimes I do feel inadequate. And it’s frustrating. Even if I was forced at gunpoint, I know I couldn’t come close to achieving the joyous revelation that failure today demands.

And I can’t wondering if that hasn’t held me back. At least socially.

Which is why over the next few months I’m going to make a real effort to enjoy my screw-ups and so reflect on how they’re helping turn me into, if not Mother Theresa, at least Bono.