0 to 10 years: You are R2D2. You are small, annoying and run around like a nutter. You never do as you’re told and frequently need bailing out of trouble. Bath-times with you are made simpler by using a mechanical hoist. You communicate using a combination of bleeps, squeals and farts. You fall over a lot. You are the only one who can work any complex electronic equipment.

11 to 19 years: You are Luke Skywalker. You have an appalling dress sense that you think is trendy. You have lost the use of your right hand from over-manipulation of your ‘light-sabre’. You fantasise about giving a princess a good rescuing. You sometimes think you must have been adopted. You whine a lot.

20 to 29 years: You are Han Solo. You own a beaten up vehicle that you claim is still faster than many newer more powerful machines. You are chiefly motivated by money. If you visit a bar you will probably end up making a mess. You borrow money with little thought to repaying it. You are known to the authorities.

30 to 39 years: You are Darth Vadar. You think black makes you look slimmer. You have developed some sort of bronchial condition. You think the majority of society’s problems can be resolved with ‘more police’ (or ‘The Force’ as you like to call them). You buy yourself the sport version of the Tie-fighter. You have an uncomfortable feeling that your long lost son might turn up at any minute.

40 to 49 years: You are the Grand Moff Tarkin. You think travellers should be vapourised. You have the biggest house and the most security features (with one tiny flaw). You think liberals should be vapourised. You are always smartly turned-out. Your attitude to foreign policy is “If we’re not sure what they’re up to, let’s invade them”. You think incompetent employees should be vapourised. You don’t find the word ‘Moff’ amusing in any way.

50 to 65 years: You are Obi Wan Kenobi. You live a hermit like existance and are mostly ignored by everyone else. You think you dispense wisdom to those you speak to. You evade reasonable enquiries from the police regarding missing droids. You have to get other people to drive you everywhere. Shaving is a distant memory and you think nothing of wandering around in your dressing gown.

66 to Death: You are Chewbacca. You are completely incomprehensible and you have hair where most people don’t. You gargle with phlegm.