#BLUE ORIGIN ROCKET PENIS SKIN#
You know the government? Those guys? They were at school together, mostly look like they’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards? One clever one and the rest a sort of motley crew of blustering shites? And that other one who is a kind of skin tag on the body politic? Lives – I think? – under the stairs at Barnard Castle? Well, get this – they’ve been found to have broken the law by giving a £560,000 contract to their other mates! I know. “I shall,” I’ll say, drawing my rug across my knees. “In … in one of the big boxes that all the tubes of the internet go into? Or maybe a cat chewed one of the tubes? Nobody ever really knew, except for the people who understood the internet and I never met any of them.” “What caused it, Grandmama?” they ask in awed tones. Oh, it was a long, dark hour! We tried to whittle our own Prime videos but the ancient arts had all been lost.”
“What are all those things apart from Amazon?” they will say. “Or gov.uk, or Twitch or Hulu! For over an hour! Nor CNN, nor the Guardian, nor the Financial Times, nor even the New York Times.” “We couldn’t access Amazon!” I tell them. “Yes, Grandmama?!” shall trill the infant holograms sitting at my feet, gazing into my ancient, wizened face from whatever planet to which we exiled the young from our spinning ball of dust in a desperate and futile attempt to ensure their survival. “Civilisation was already teetering on a knife-edge of survival. “It was during the plague,” I shall start. TuesdayĪt last, something to tell the grandkids about – the day the internet went down!
#BLUE ORIGIN ROCKET PENIS FULL#
Honestly, if this is what happens when you start letting civilians into the firm, colour me full monarchist now and for ever. You know it, I know it, even if we don’t know why we know it) decision. Given my general tolerance, not to say complete disinterest, in what friends, family or famouses want to call their crotchfruit, I cannot believe how deeply I care about – which is to say hate – this drivelling, emetic, nonsensical (you don’t name someone after someone else’s nickname. Meanwhile, I am stuck on the deeply earthbound matter of Lilibet Diana, the chosen name of Harry and Meghan’s new baby. I don’t know whether we should tell him or not. The rocket is called New Shepard and, honest to God, it looks more like a penis than any other rocket yet made. He and his brother will travel on the first human flight to be launched by the multi-billionaire’s company Blue Origin, on 20 July.
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