40 years ago today, humanity dared to cross the final frontier - to boldly go where they shouldn't have gone - to the moon. Like we hadn't made enough of a mess down here already, we had to spread our rubbish elsewhere.
Not content with cocking up their lines, leaving their space junk all over the place, and bouncing around like kids in a bouncy castle - the subsequent trespassers who followed made the ultimate insult. They played golf. A game sutable only for old blokes who can't quite manage the last four holes.
They spoiled our serene Luna. Ever since, the quiet beauty of this other world has been tarnished by the knowledge that the size 9s of the so-called "Neil" Armstrong have been all over it. Once more mystery was sacrificed to macho posing and a lust for conquest. At this we weep and live in its shadow all the days of our lives. If only we could wash the moon with lye, and rinse it with our tears.
One would also have expected that the moon landing would have prevented the myth of the Moon Gibbon from ever occurring - after all, if the astronauts have been to the moon where was the Gibbon? But the Gibbon people are quite clear on this. They say the Gibbon lives on the dark side. They may well be right.
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