Digested week: should we tell Jeff Bezos his rocket looks like a penis? | Lucy Mangan


Bezos in area – it’s a reality universally acknowledged that a man in possession of an unprecedentedly giant fortune should nonetheless be in need of a strategy to convert it into a penis. Thus, the richest man on the planet has introduced he’s constructing a 60ft rocket and going into area.

He and his brother will journey on the primary human flight to be launched by the multi-billionaire’s firm Blue Origin, on 20 July. The rocket is named New Shepard and, trustworthy to God, it looks extra like a penis than every other rocket but made. I don’t know whether or not we should tell him or not.

In the meantime, I’m caught on the deeply earthbound matter of Lilibet Diana, the chosen title of Harry and Meghan’s new child. Given my common tolerance, to not say full disinterest, in what buddies, household or famouses wish to name their crotchfruit, I can’t imagine how deeply I care about – which is to say hate – this drivelling, emetic, nonsensical (you don’t title somebody after another person’s nickname. You don’t. You simply don’t. You realize it, I do know it, even when we don’t know why we realize it) choice. Truthfully, if that is what occurs whenever you begin letting civilians into the agency, color me full monarchist now and for ever. Lilibet Diana. Give me energy.


Ultimately, one thing to tell the grandkids about – the day the web went down!

“It was throughout the plague,” I shall begin. “Civilisation was already teetering on a knife-edge of survival. After which!”

“Sure, Grandmama?!” shall trill the toddler holograms sitting at my ft, gazing into my historical, wizened face from no matter planet to which we exiled the younger from our spinning ball of mud in a determined and futile try to make sure their survival.

“We couldn’t entry Amazon!” I tell them. “Or, or Twitch or Hulu! For over an hour! Nor CNN, nor the Guardian, nor the Monetary Instances, nor even the New York Instances.”

“What are all these issues other than Amazon?” they may say.

“By no means thoughts. Oh, it was a lengthy, darkish hour! We tried to whittle our personal Prime movies however the historical arts had all been misplaced.”

“What brought about it, Grandmama?” they ask in awed tones.

“There was a … an error,” I say. “In … in one of many massive packing containers that every one the tubes of the web go into? Or possibly a cat chewed one of many tubes? No person ever actually knew, aside from the individuals who understood the web and I by no means met any of them.”

“Thanks, Grandmama,” they may say. “That was a excellent story. Sleep now.”

“I shall,” I’ll say, drawing my rug throughout my knees. “I shall.”


Wow. Guys, you’re not gonna imagine this. You realize the federal government? These guys? They had been in school collectively, principally look like they’ve been dragged via a hedge backwards? One intelligent one and the remaining a type of motley crew of blustering shites? And that different one who’s a form of pores and skin tag on the physique politic? Lives – I feel? – beneath the steps at Barnard Fortress? Effectively, get this – they’ve been discovered to have damaged the legislation by giving a £560,000 contract to their different mates! I do know. I do know. The thoughts, it’s blown.

To be honest, the truth that it has been judged illegal is definitely a little mind-blowing. I don’t find out about you, however I used to be totally ready for the choose to take a look at the proof – lengthy out there in and to the nationwide press – that the large contract to look into public understanding of Covid had been handed, apparently unhesitatingly, to Individuals First, a market analysis firm run by former colleagues of Michael Gove and Dominic Cummings, and for the choose to announce after minutes of cautious consideration: “Yeah, and?” As an alternative, she reckoned “it gave rise to obvious bias and was illegal.”

It’s a begin, my buddies, it’s a begin. Allow us to hope there’s for them way more and worse to return.

Matt Hancock planting a tree
Matt Hancock … what a software. {Photograph}: Steve Parsons/PA


Apparently, we are all swearing extra. I do know, I do know – you don’t fucking say, after the 12 months and extra we’ve had. In accordance with a report printed by the British Board of Movie Classification, six in 10 folks now use “robust language” (that’s “f***” and stuff, however with out the asterisks as a result of they take ages to say and actually dissipate the impact you’re going for) of their each day lives, and a third say they’re doing so greater than they did 5 years in the past.

I bloody love swearing. Greater than that, I would like it. It’s my solely launch valve. I can’t address any type of confrontation – from open however reasoned dialogue to screaming argument, these are nearly indistinguishable to me and I flee in abject horror from all of them. However I nonetheless have emotions. Livid, livid emotions. A muttered volley of expletives is the one administration route open to me. I do know I should have the ability to rise above such issues and transfer serenely via life wishing even those that add to not the sum of my happiness nothing however good. However sadly, they’re simply such ****s.


I strike the board of the sweetness salon and cry “No extra!”. I’ve given in. I’ve been sizzling, sweaty and vilely uncomfortable beneath the relentless solar and I’ve given in. I’ve purchased a summer time costume. I’ve purchased lengthy knickers in order that I can put on it and stroll greater than three steps with out falling to the bottom clutching my abraded inside thighs in agony. And now I’m finishing the trinity of seasonal preparations and getting my legs waxed. I might shave them, however I’m a feminine Esau and by the point I’ve acquired out of the bathe and dressed they want doing once more.

So right here I’m, readying myself for all times exterior, in daylight after a 12 months spent in lockdown and bushy contentment and a week spent in sweat(pants)-soaked struggling.

If you’re now studying this beneath blankets and looking at a weekend of thundering rain, I can solely apologise. It was my hubristic depilation wot did it.

Jill and Joe Biden and Boris and Carrie Johnson walk together in Cornwall
‘Jill … psst, Jill! What’s happening? Have they despatched us the appropriate man? Is she his carer? Is he her captive? I don’t get it.’ ‘Simply preserve strolling, Joe, honey. This place is an island. We are able to’t go until they allow us to go. Maintain strolling.’ {Photograph}: Toby Melville/AP

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