So, ten years later and 1.5bn euros(!) spent, all those brain boxes at the European Space Centre managed to steer their tin-can several zillion miles across space and then detach a special 'do-flicker-thingie' (sorry for the tehnical language) which was landed on a bit of old space rubble which, by the look of it, might have originated in dowtown Damascus. So far so brilliant but what I want to know is which of those swots allowed one of their female assistants to park the bloody thing? It is a well-known fact that women couldn't park a Mini inside an empty multi-story carpark so it is absolutely no surprise to learn that the 'do-flicker-thingie' ended up under a cliff that has blocked the sunlight required to keep the batteries working. Of course, even as I write these words I can hear the lady swot concerned screeching something along the lines of 'well, I told you over and over to pack extra batteries but you never listen to a word I say and you never told me there were cliffs on that titchy lump a' junk, I expect you were too busy cracking quadratic equation jokes with all your mates whilst I was left to try and sort out your mistakes . . . ' and so on and on.
Well, it was either that or it is proof positive that God does indeed have a sense of humour!
