Am I going to be an astronaut when I grow up?

Dear Angry Agony Aunt,

Am I going to be an astronaut when I grow up?

Where are your parents?  And why aren’t they answering this question?  Mummy needs to get off the bottle and Daddy needs to zip up his diaper bag.

All I can give you kiddo, is some truthful advice.  And I’m going to warn you, it might not be the sparking ‘reach for the stars’ advice Mummy has been giving you all this time.  And while we’re on the subject, let me explain what she means by that.  She’s not being literal.  She’s not talking about the twinkle, twinkle, little stars you’ve been singing about - she’s talking about the stars that shimmy on the red carpet.  She doesn’t care what kind of star you reach for, as long as it nets you enough money to prop up her pharmaceutical drug habit.  That’s why she’s been cutting your hair to look like Justin Bieber.

But back to your question.  The answer is no, you’re never going to be an astronaut.  Why?  Because NASA are taking their bat, ball, helmets and jumpsuits and going home.  Apparently the moon is just a big black hole that sucks money through its vortex. (… I know, I know… That’s what Daddy says about Mummy…) 

But there’s not much to do on the moon other than plant flags and moonbuggy around.  There’s no Target’s, no petrol stations and no brothels.  So really, what’s the point in going up there?  And there’s even less to do on the space station.  All you’ll end up doing is mucking around, eating chewy, sardine bars and peeing in your pants.  It might work for you now, but you’ll get bored of it very quickly.

But if you still really like the thrust of a good engine, I suggest you give Richard Branson a call.  He’s the next King in line to reach Mars and that’s the only way you’re ever going to fly boy.

Send your questions to me - angryauntis@gmail.com