A few years ago I read someone announcing they were retiring as a satirist due to unfair competition from real life. I thought this was weak-hearted until, oh I don't know, the news of John Major's affair with Edwina Currie when I too put my knee-jerk sarcasm (A Douglas Coupland phrase) into semi-retirement.
Yesterday the lead item on the Radio 4 six o'clock news was that some astronauts had probably embarked on missions recently with excessive alcohol in thier bloodstreams. Well really. Mitch Benn may do it on the Now Show next week but here we go:
Major Tom to Ground Control
This bitchy module's on a roll
I think we've found a new black hole
I'll drink to that cheers, salute, skål
Planet earth - should it look blue?
Oh God. There's nothing I can do
I shouldn't have had beers too
Hey Ground Control man; where's the loo?
From the Sun are we the third
Or fourth? Can't recall what I heard
We overshot oh shit oh merde
Instruction book looks very blurred
We're sorting it out with a fist
My fellow pilot - Glasgow kissed
Let's concentrate on how we missed
I wish I wasn't astropissed
Ground Control to Major Tom
You git - you left the gas ring on
There was a bang your house is gone
Those chasers from last night were wrong