Somewhere en route to earth…
…Captains Log, Stardate 433.543…ah who gives a toss?
Day 548 of this little trip we’ve taken to Mars and to be honest I couldn’t give a flying rats rear end. So we’ve gone to Mars. Big woooppdedoo. I was the first man to set foot on the red planet and to do the macarena on Mars and to fart on Mars blah blah blah. It was red, rocky and full of nothing. I could have told them that from my armchair at home. What was the point?
Splashdown is on Saturday afternoon somewhere in the Indian ocean as long as this tin can holds together. From what “Mission Control” has told me, the bunch of feckless idiots, I’m going to be picked up by a boat and lifted out of this sardine tin in some fancy stannah stairlift because I can’t walk, thats what 500 days in space will do to you. Sure I was meant to exercise and monitor my bone density, or some rubbish like that, but what are they going to do? Come out to Mars and make me get up on the treadmill?
So then I’m to be whisked off to Ireland (did I mention I am the first Irish astronaut?) and get the ticker tape parade round O’Connell street. Then its back to doing a few interviews and home before tea. All I really want is a shower. 17 months washing with the equivalent of a big baby wet wipe does not constitute personal hygeine. Dmitri, the flight engineer lost it a few weeks ago and has started licking himself clean, convinced it’s what “our ancestors” used to do. Let me tell you, the places you can reach with your tongue in zero gravity is not worth thinking about.
So the schedule for me once I get back is a shower, for a few hours, followed by a super sized McChicken Premiere with BBQ sauce and a coke. Jesus, I’ve been dreaming of that for the last six months. We’ve had the same menu for the last 500 odd days. Oh sure, its been designed to meet our every nutritional requirement but essentially its macaroni and cheese. We’ve got the choice of four different sauces and different shaped pasta but it all boils down to the same thing. White sludge with colouredy bits, for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everyday without fail. Oh what colour will we have today, green? Haven’t had that since…three days ago! Brilliant! We cracked out a tin of baked beans a few weeks back and Marco, the navigation officer started crying, he was so happy. The tin was in a little glass cabinet with a hammer and was labeled: “Emergency Use Only!”
Anyway, I’m signing off now because we’ve got to turn around. Supposedly if we hit the atmosphere the wrong way round we’ll be burnt to a crisp. But you know what, just to spite them, I’d almost do it. Feck the lot of them, thats what I say. We only swung the “old bath tub” round the other day just for the sheer fun of it. Stewie, the pilot was so bored he’d manufactured a scale model of the Eiffel tower out of dried macaroni and toothpaste while singing the theme tune to Fraggle Rock. I figured we should get him doing something before his brain melted completely. He has to guide us in after all and if the guy is brain dead then we’ll either end up as melba toast (oh, toast with peanut butter…) or skip off the atmosphere and head out towards Jupiter. Thats when it would really go pear shaped.