Despite having a first-class degree and having read an unfeasibly large number of books, it began to dawn on me that I couldn’t really do anything. I couldn’t sing, act, tell jokes, play any musical instrument, hit, kick or catch a ball, run for more than a few yards without panting, speak another language, or assemble things without them falling apart immediately. I was a scientifically illiterate innocent with the entrepreneurial instincts of a thirteenth-century peasant and the iron determination of a butterfly. Journalism seemed the only option.
(Andrew Marr, „My Trade“)