I have speculated in the past that the newest so called ‘Mars Lander’, the Phoenix, was not on Mars at all but hanging around out the Back-of-Burk with my mother. (Ma's Lander)
I will have to retract the assertion now that the silly little bastard has gone and choked himself. His soil sampler is apparently all gummed up, and it is proving difficult to administer an interplanetary Heimlich on the electronic retard. I’m sure that if he was in the middle of the Australian desert with Mum, it would have been sorted by now.
An incident with a missing Beagle has coincidentally meant that the propeller-heads at NASA aren’t returning my calls. They should though because I am a man with answers when it comes to unusual problems. I’ve fixed an accelerator with a bicycle handbrake cable, and used rope as a windscreen wiper. (These are just some of my civilian solutions. There’s also some top secret gear protecting this fine country and your precious hide, that has the bum-print of yours-truly all over it. Think Attack Vampire Koalas and you’re getting close).
So why should they be picking up the blower to listen to my pearls? As mentioned, reports have come back from the surface of Mars that the Phoenix has bitten off more than he can chew. I’m assuming ‘he’. It sounds like something a bloke would do - Go to another planet and start hacking into the nearest crater. I like the guy’s lack of style.
This blokey problem requires a blokey answer. Either do it with a handbrake turn, or a full lock-up. Get the Mars Gasper up to full tilt, maybe even down a hill, and chuck him into a turn or throw out the anchors. It will perform the intergalactic equivalent of smacking his head on the dashboard - that should work loose the problem. More likely it will work loose the Martian sitting on his back with a funnel and a bucket, giggling as his Martian Mum says, “Don’t touch that! You don’t know where it’s come from.”
P.S. (Yes I know you’re not supposed to do the Heimlich anymore, it’s just a fun word.)
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