Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft

I was going to write something clever and nasty about our Wayne and the £30k he spent on having his head returfed. Think Wembley but slightly less successful, and marginally less green.

That was until I saw the shots of the International Space Station and Endeavour. The images make my efforts at snideness at Rooney's expense appear cheap and childish. Rather than concentrating my limited prose skills on wringing a cheap laugh out of a talented young man, I should be focussing on the sheer magic of these wonderful pictures.

Don't get me wrong; I can't abide the man, but why should I demean myself and him, when I can point you to some staggeringly awe inspiring views.

The old cynical, wizened "man of the world" in me wants to say, "Yes, but look how much it cost, look at what's happening on the planet below, look at the futile gesture it really is! To think that this is all Kennedy's call to arms in 1960 has led to. The vision of manned interstellar flight fell at the first hurdle and now all we can do is scurry around in the shadow of our planet."

One of the shots is quite terrifying, it's the one at the top of the post. "Endeavour" is held helpless in the grip of what appears to be a giant preying mantis. It is so vulnerable, hanging there in the void, held by the infinity of space, stark in its nakedness set against that unforgettable sphere that is home.

Another conjures up a scene in Kubrick's  "2001 - A Space Odyssey" when the space ship is hovering above one of Jupiter's  moons. It is dark and menacing - our planet at night.

How can we not be awestruck by the sheer majesty of this sorely imperfect planet and marvel at what  its frail, fallible inhabitants can accomplish.

Enjoy your new hair, Mr Rooney.