In a move that has left the nation's gin reserves trembling, NASA has announced the crew for its next Artemis mission, just as a British-built lunar module prepares to hitch a ride to the Moon. This is not a drill, readers. We are going back to the celestial boondocks, and this time we're bringing a stiff upper lip and a questionable casserole.
The four chosen souls, a mix of Americans and a token Canadian (because apparently we need a polite person to handle the space-Ambien), will embark on a journey to our dusty satellite. But the real headliner is the British module, a gleaming testament to the fact that we can still build things that don't leak or require a royal charter. It's called 'Orion's Belt' or something equally pub-quiz-worthy, and it will serve as the crew's home away from home. Or rather, home away from the home we're currently trashing.
One can only imagine the briefing room at NASA: a bunch of middle managers in polo shirts pointing at PowerPoint slides of the lunar surface, while the astronauts pretend to care about geological samples. But let's be honest, the real mission is to see if a gin and tonic can be properly mixed in one-sixth gravity. Spoiler alert: it can, but the bubbles go rogue.
The British module, meanwhile, is being hailed as a triumph of privatised space. Because nothing says 'we care about science' like a contract awarded to the lowest bidder who happens to have a cousin in the cabinet. I'm told it includes a state-of-the-art toilet that flushes upwards, a 'space-wee solution' that will surely grace future museum exhibits.
Of course, the announcement was met with the usual fanfare: a live-streamed event with a countdown, a pointless flag-waving segment, and a soundbite from an American politician thanking 'the hardworking taxpayers' before promptly announcing a tax cut for their billionaire donors. Meanwhile, the astronauts looked suitably grave, as if they were about to solve world hunger rather than fetch some rocks.
But let's not be too cynical. This is, after all, a monumental achievement. We are sending human beings to another world. The same human beings who argue about parking spaces and put pineapple on pizza. Perhaps, as they gaze upon the Earth from the lunar module, they will realise how trivial our squabbles are. Or more likely, they'll argue about who left the hatch open.
As for the British module, I propose a toast: to the engineers who built it, to the politicians who funded it, and to the astronauts who will inevitably spill tea in zero gravity. Here's to the Moon, that lonely rock where we can finally escape the news cycle. Unless Elon Musk builds a bar there first.
In conclusion, the Artemis mission is a glorious waste of money that will inspire a generation, or at least provide some decent footage for a IMAX film. And the British module? It's the best thing to come out of this country since the biscuit. God save the Moon.
