Every day, it seems, we witness the uninspiring spectacle of another giant rocket-propelled sex toy trying to land.
There are a lot of oscillations, followed by a jet of thruster power, followed by a lot of dust, then a huge explosion as everything explodes.
It’s sad because even though the billionaires who own these reusable rockets make them work, you somehow know that humanity will never leave this planet if this is how we are supposed to come back.
If something is wrong, it is usually wrong.
Despite all of that, however, we were told this week that a California company – where it’s legal to smoke cannabis – is designing a space hotel. And this construction will begin in just four years.
They showed us artist impressions of middle-aged couples in carpeted rooms, looking out the window at the blue marble that is Earth, and telling us there will be a gym and even a basketball court.
Basketball in space? How will it work? You throw the ball and it will keep going up.
Mind you, it would be a snap to do the weights. “Hey Mildred, I squeezed 1000 pounds this morning.”
Food served by the Clangers
Then there is the problem of space sickness, which affects most of the people who go there.
It’s hard enough to put all your vomit down the toilet when you’re on Earth, so I imagine in a zero-gravity environment you’re going to have a lot of it on the walls and in your hair.
Apparently the boffins behind the plan say they’ve thought about this and say they’re going to create artificial gravity.
Yes, okay, and then the food will be served by Clangers and the Soup Dragon will host the reception and after the pudding every night, guests can have moon cheese.
There are a few other issues that need to be addressed, however. When we had the space shuttle, it cost around £ 45,000 to launch every kilogram of material into space.
This is fine, but even so, it is still quite expensive to haul a rug into space.
It doesn’t matter what ovens, table tennis rackets, and food. It would cost a thousand dollars to have a sack of potatoes up there. And millions for running machines.
I guess, therefore, the cost of a weekend in the space hotel would be around £ 5,000 billion.
Most people wouldn’t be willing to pay that kind of money, especially since they would almost certainly explode when they got to earth.
Of course, the view would be wonderful, but I once stayed in a hotel in Scarborough and the view was quite special.
And it only costs around £ 40 a night for two.
Panic is locked in a ship
A “PANIC room” is an impregnable fortress with its own air supply and communication links. It is a safe haven where you and your family can hide if kidnappers break into your home.
I’m pretty sure, though, that in real life, no one has ever used a panic room with anger, but having one told your friends that you – nudge, nudge – are the kind of gamer who could need it. That’s why they’ve become the billionaire’s latest must-have accessory.
And now Roman Abramovich has taken it a step further by installing one on his new yacht.
OKAY. I see. So the bad guys storm the yacht, intending to kill it. He therefore takes his family to this impregnable room for shelter. And now what? He continues to sit in it as they drill a hole in the hull and sink the ship.
So now he’s getting stomped on by the pressure until his head explodes.
I think overall I prefer to get shot.
Asleep at the wheel
So Tiger Woods got into his car one morning and, while supposedly rushing to a nearby meeting, had an accident that broke his leg.
A police expert said this week he may have fallen asleep while driving.
Is that so? I wish I could fall asleep that fast.
Nicola is a little shady
As we know, the whole of Scotland is currently absorbed by a public inquiry that has been put in place to determine who is more insane, former Prime Minister Alex Salmond or the current Nicola Sturgeon.
This week Ms. Sturgeon testified and that is essentially what she said.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t remember that meeting. I can’t be expected to remember this detail. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t. Don’t remember It’s on the tip of my tongue … sorry, here we go.
It made me wonder, after a while, how the hell she can run the country when she very obviously has the memory of a goldfish.
MY new house is nearing completion and I am faced with the problems and cost of decorating.
I could pay myself, I guess, but after reading what Boris Johnson is planning to do in Downing Street, I decided to start a charity so you can pay it instead.
Please send as many as you can afford, because remember (adopt the charitable voice of a TV presenter at this point): “Just £ 3 a month can keep Jeremy in the curtains for a whole year.”
This is my idea of Holl
I always wondered why I couldn’t stay in a Pontine summer camp.
And now I know.
They took a look at my Irish girlfriend’s last name – it’s Hogan – and declined our reservation on the grounds that she might be a gypsy.
Apparently they really did just that.
Of course, there could be a more realistic explanation.
I may have never been to Pontins because I prefer to use my gums to pluck hairs from James May’s bag of nuts.
I was listening to Tommy’s original album this week and must have laughed when Roger Daltrey sang the line: “I have a feeling 21 is going to be a good year.”
Who pedants, it was changed in ’51 for the film.
Glue is cruel?
There seems to be a new craze in the racing world, which involves having your picture taken sitting on a dead horse.
It was presented by one observer as: “Cruelty beyond belief.
But I’m not so sure.
Because if the horse is dead, it doesn’t know that it serves as a chair.
He also doesn’t know that tomorrow it will be eaten by dogs or sent to the nearest factory to be made into glue.
Yes, it’s cruel to mistreat animals when they’re alive, but once they’re dead they’re not animals anymore.
They are meat and hair.
Or in some cases Parker Knoll recliners.
No one will be more thrilled to hear that Prince Philip is recovering than the Duke of Sussex.
Because if Mr Queen had died Prince Harry would have been forced to fly back to England for the funeral.
And that would have meant a ten-day quarantine at the Holiday Inn in Heathrow.