THERE comes a point, most days, when I ask myself why I bother with social media. Videos of unlikely animal friendships can only act as unicorn chasers – sorbet for the soul – for so long before the white noise and spirit-crushing bile becomes unbearable.

I'm well aware that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Be it scrolling idly through claptrap conspiracy theories, rejecting requests to play Candy Crush or attempting to traverse the strange hinterland of modern political discourse.

Then comes a gem that makes enduring all the narcissism, navel-gazing and nonsense seem worthwhile: step forward Dame Helen Mirren. Her Instagram account is sheer joy. Particularly in recent days when she's been having great fun in her downtime from filming art heist biopic The Duke.

The Oscar-winning actress went to see a panto in Bradford where she donned a light-up blue tiara, yelled "he's behind you" from the audience and afterwards went backstage to meet the cast, including comedian Billy Pearce, Chuckle Brother Paul Elliott and former Steps member Faye Tozer.

It was all documented on her Instagram feed along with a visit to a curry house and a sublime snap of four, apparently random, women in fancy dress – leg warmers, ra-ra skirts, a shell suit, neon accessories and crimped hair – captioned: "Some gals having a great eighties night out in Bradford."

If tourist chiefs aren't running a campaign on the back of this exposure, they have surely missed a trick. Dame Helen, though, is a breath of fresh air among the posturing and pouting that has become ubiquitous across large swathes of Instagram.

In one brilliant, tongue-in-cheek shot she stands beside a row of bright yellow safety barriers which match the daffodil hues of her sleek, formal gown after attending a film premiere in New York.

Another shows Dame Helen looking relaxed, sitting on some steps while eating fish and chips, still dressed in a swish party frock. There are posts extolling the merits of cheese sandwiches, enjoying a cocktail named in her honour and cheerfully cleaning up roadside litter with her sister.

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It is the perfect antidote to the slew of filtered bikini shots, duck-faced bathroom mirror selfies and "candid" poses from so-called influencers who look about as natural as Donald Trump's tan.

Consider this as a rule of thumb before posting anything on social media. Pause, breathe and think: what would Dame Helen Mirren do? It's a mantra we could all live our lives by.

A horny hero

THOSE keen to option the movie rights to an epic tale about a thrilling race against time, packed with derring-do, swagger and raunchy love scenes, should look no further. I give you Diego, a centenarian giant tortoise who is retiring after helping to save his own kind from extinction.

In the 1970s, the Chelonoidis hoodensis species, which is native to Espanola Island in the Galapagos, was on its last stumpy, wizened-looking legs. Only 14 of the tortoises survived in the wild.

Diego had spent 30 years in a California zoo as part of scientific research, but in 1976 he was returned to his homeland to join a breeding programme.

According to conservation biologist James Gibbs, who has worked on research projects in the Galapagos Islands since 1981, the tortoise has "a big personality – quite aggressive, active and vocal in his mating habits". Or in layman's terms: he's a player.

Diego quickly drove the opposite sex wild, gaining international Lothario status on a par with Warren Beatty, Julio Iglesias and Coronation Street's Bill Roache.

Genetic testing has since revealed that Diego fathered an estimated 800 offspring, about 40 per cent of those living on Espanola. Another tortoise, called E5, is responsible for the other 60 per cent.

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Which begs the question: Why isn't E5 the hero of the piece? Well, apparently, he is a "more reserved, less charismatic male" and "prefers to mate more at night".Or in layman's terms: he's a good guy.

Movie casting prediction: Mark Ruffalo to play E5 with Russell Brand as Diego.

Numbers game

IF you are currently 47.2 years old, then condolences, you must be utterly miserable.

A new study by former Bank of England policymaker David Blanchflower examined data across 132 countries and found that for people in developed nations, the "happiness curve" reaches its lowest point at precisely this age.

The good news is that people in their fifties are happier than those in their forties. And folk in their sixties are even happier still. So, it's all uphill – or downhill – or helter-skelter, loop-the-loop, after that.

The crux: hang on in there. You will be 47.3 before you know it.