Professor Hector Schlenk, senior researcher at the Bogton Institute for Public Engagement with Science
As a scientist, people are frequently asking me trick questions relating to the latest Covid restrictions, such as: “If on a family driving holiday in the Borders, is it permissible to visit Carlisle with my wife and five children if I keep one of them hidden in the boot?”
So I’ve been delighted this week to find myself turning my eyes to another planet entirely, a welcome distraction from all the very many things going disastrously wrong on this one.
Of course, the big scientific news of the week – perhaps even the epoch – has been the discovery of potential life on Venus. Not, as it transpires, the title of an adult movie made early in the career of David Attenborough, but rather the identification of a chemical in the Venusian atmosphere, indicative of the presence of some form of alien life existing there.
Now, to be clear, this isn’t believed to be anything complex, multi-celled, green-skinned, many-tentacled or likely to abduct the unwary for inexplicable probing purposes.
So please, don’t be alarmed. What scientists have in fact found is high concentrations of a chemical called phosphine, 50km from the Venusian surface.
This substance is usually produced by microbes and bacteria, is highly explosive and foul smelling, with an aroma of garlic and rotting fish and is typically found in such substances as pond slime and penguin dung. In particular, one deduces, French penguin dung.
Now, as far as I can determine, no one is claiming that Venus is home to a population of French space penguins (“Pingouins de l’espace”, if you will) which is a pity as I recently had a dream of something very similar after enjoying an ill-advised amount of Limburger at bedtime.
It is, of course, important to avoid sensationalism in this discovery and to remember that this is not 100% proof of life, just that there is a chemical there that should not be there and we must remain open to the hypothesis that it could be caused by some process currently unknown to chemistry.
That is why I’ve been trying to create phosphine at home, by using processes previously unknown to chemistry, though they are now well known to Mrs Schlenk, Dyno-Rod and most regrettably, the fire brigade.
Regardless, it remains a triumph for science that researchers have managed to detect this chemical on a planet that is 162 million miles away.
At the very least it’s evidence that these scientists have better track and trace methods for Venus than the UK Government has managed so far. In addition, the possible existence of tiny microbes on another planet is cause for great excitement. It is an indicator of life on other worlds.
Evidence that WE ARE NOT ALONE. No matter how much we may currently be shunned by our friends and family for smelling of garlic and rotting fish.
Cosmo Ludovik Fawkes-Hunt, 13th Earl of Kinmuck
Finally! After six months of film-flam and tommy-rot, the UK Government have finally grown a pair and used some good old-fashioned commonsense. And not before time.
This coronavirus piffle has gotten out of hand and the “rule of six” is the latest in a long line of white flag-waving concessions from the lily-livered powers-that-be. Thank goodness, then, that grouse shooting is excused from these namby-pamby measures.
Grouse shooting is not just a necessary piece of land management and animal husbandry, it’s also a tradition that stretches back generations here at Kinmuck Estate.
I see the usual oiks, naysayers and sideline carpers are bemoaning the fact that while hunting and shooting are allowed, children’s parties are not. Well, isn’t the answer obvious? Grouse shooting parties for the under-12s.
What could be more entertaining for ankle biters than the chance to blow off some steam in the great outdoors whilst blowing some grouse to kingdom come?
We can do game pie, jelly and ice cream, shotgun cartridges in the party bags and a ceremonial blooding for the birthday boy or girl. Don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner.
The exemption gives me great hope that there may be more such concessions to the landed gentry in the offing. We’ve not been able to have our annual polo match on the lawn this year.
Hopefully, Boris will give the green light for a chukka or two, if we make an entirely unrelated donation to the party coffers.
More importantly, the Fawkes-Hunts have our biannual traditional jousting tournament slated for November.
The “rule of six” is quite incompatible with an event involving two dozen strapping armour-clad gentlemen charging at each other atop their trusty steeds.
I do hope that the nanny state give the tournament their blessing. It would be beyond ironic for an event that regularly results in more than its fair share of broken bones and ruptured spleens to be cancelled on the grounds of health and safety.
