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Let me start by saying that I salute traditional Birdman
events, in which incurably hopeful people throw
themselves off the end of seaside piers while strapped to
the world's least aerodynamic contraptions. However, I
can't help feeling they're a bit yester-century.
Let's up the ante by moving
from catastrophic amateur
flight to calamitous amateur space exploration, with the
inaugural 'Spolshdown'.
What's sploshdown? It's a gathering of like-minded
astrothusiasts finding ingenious ways (trebuchet, elastic
under tension, brute strength and will power etc) of
launching washing-machine-sized satellites (or Philae-
sized washing machines) towards the passing Halley's
Comet, in the hope that a timely gust of wind or an
unusual disturbance in the time space continuum will
help it on its way.
First person to land their washing machine on the comet
wins a crate of pokey West Country Ale, and a sponsored
T-shirt. We've got until 2061 to plan this, people. Let's
make it happen.
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<Frantically scrabbles through old Acme catalogue> |
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A google review says West Country Ales is gone four months ago, replaced by a sweets shop. |
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I'm thinking some tinkering and recoding of the Kerbal Space Program should get us close-ish. |
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Those socks are how life began. |
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I think the event should be annual, starting this summer. You know, in case the comet arrives early or something. |
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<summons mental image of Earth under relentless random
bombardment by superannuated white goods> |
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Yes, [poc], that's a truly excellent suggestion. |
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