Auntie Doris in the 21st Century #7: The Colonisation of Space.


Auntie Doris in the 21st Century #7: The Colonisation of Space.
In my day, if anyone was going to send a rocket up into space it would either be the Americans or the Russians. They went barmy trying to outdo each other. Sending up dogs, monkeys, people, and eventually landing men on the moon. Or so they say. As far as I know, nobody has ever proved that one yet. Any road. All the fanfare had fizzled out of it in the 1980s, because it was a bit expensive, and there wasn’t all that much to see up there. Besides, people had gone off Star Trek by then, and the A Team was all the rage, so the Russians and the Americans both decided that it was more fun to go around in armoured cars and helicopters, throwing grenades at people that they thought were bad.
Not that it made much difference to the people in their countries who were ill or hungry. It didn’t really matter to them whether the money was being spent in space or on military campaigns, it certainly wasn’t being spent on them.
But now, in the twenty first century, other countries have started to take an interest. The Indians have got a rocket ship thing in orbit around Mars now. And it cost them less than fifty million pounds to get it there an’all. That has made the Russians and Americans a bit jealous. They spent miles more than that. Even in Olden days money!
But although fifty million pounds sounds like a lot of money to the likes of you and me, it is only about what the going rate is for a decent football player these days. Imagine that! A ruddy footballer costing the same price as a rocket to ruddy Mars! No wonder the British haven’t sent any rockets up there lately. Too obsessed with football. Premier League this and Champions League that. They even move the time that Coronation Street comes on when Manchester United are playing, and they’ve been nowhere near as good since that Matt Busby resigned. Its a sorry state of affairs when we’d rather spend money on ruddy football than space exploration. If I was in charge of the football, I would make all the top clubs give fifty million pounds a season to a space fund, so that we could eventually colonise the planets. That would solve the world’s population and hunger worries. They could grow food in giant Eco-domes like the Center Parcs at Sherwood Forest. The football people would eventually recoup their money by organising an interplanetary league and selling the television rights to Sky television, or some other silly buggers with more money than sense.
It would be good entertainment though, because the different gravity on other planets would mean subtle differences in how the game was played at stadiums around the solar system.
If they ever set up something like that, here on the other side there would probably be a special “Interplanetary Match of The Day” on the television. And it would be co-presented by Patrick and Bobby Moore. Or it ruddy well should be.

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