Rocks the size of Kim Kardashian’s bum could kill us all…so the only thing to do is drink

Rocks the size of Kim Kardashian's bum could kill us the only thing to do is drink

SPACE boffins have announced that this year alone, 700 previously unseen asteroids have been observed within an interstellar hair’s breadth of Earth.
This means that there are now 200,000 known rocks up there, and a thousand of these are more than a kilometre across.
Getty Scientists have revealed that this year alone, 700 previously unknown asteroids were observed close to Earth
Splash News Only six years ago a tiny meteor wrought havoc when it entered the atmosphere over Russia – imagine what would happen if one the size of Kim Kardashian’s backside hit us
And, as the Times newspaper pointed out this week, if one of those hits us, it would ruin our whole geological period.
Even the smaller ones can do serious damage. Only six years ago a tiny meteor entered the Earth’s atmosphere over Russia.
Travelling at 40,000mph, it was 30 times brighter than the sun, and the heat it generated could be felt 35 miles away. But even though it was just 20 metres in diameter, it wreaked havoc.
Almost 1,500 people were injured and 7,200 buildings were damaged.
And that was from a rock the size of a tennis court.
Imagine if we were hit by a football pitch. Or something the size of Kim Kardashian’s backside. That’d be bye-bye life on Earth.
So, what’s to be done?
Well, there are suggestions that to wake us up to the danger, Hollywood should make a movie where Bruce Willis doesn’t win in the end.
Some say we need to see people groping around in the darkness of a post-strike nuclear winter, dying slowly and painfully of starvation and hypothermia.
Imagine if we were hit by a football pitch. Or something the size of Kim Kardashian’s backside. That’d be bye-bye life on Earth.
But I saw enough films when I was growing up where the otter got hit on the head with a shovel in the end, or the dog had to be put down.
So, I don’t need any more gloom and doom, thank you very much.
Which is why I’m delighted to see that Nasa is actually working on a solution.
Called Dart, it’s designed to slam into an asteroid that’s on a collision course with Earth, in the hope that its trajectory will be altered just enough to turn a catastrophe into a near-miss.
What worries me is that they are going to try it out in 2021.
It will be fired at a passing asteroid to see if it really can be deflected.
Hmmm. What if it works, and the asteroid which wasn’t going to hit us is nudged on to a course that means it will?
What would the boffins say then? “Oops”? I’m not sure that would cover it.
Honestly, I think my solution to the problem is far better.
If you are told that an asteroid is ­coming and it’s going to wipe us out, you simply walk to the nearest off-licence where you buy as much vodka as you can carry. You then take it home . . . and drink the lot.
NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine​ says ​’It’s ​time to ​get ​serious ​about ​asteroid ​threats​’​
Carol has the last laugh
CAROL Vorderman said in an interview this week that she fills her days with “miscellaneous mischief”.
The mind boggles.
Getty Carole Vorderman says she gets up to ‘miscellaneous mischief’ but whatever it is it’s clearly working
But whatever “miscellaneous mischief” is, it seems to be working because of all the people I ever meet, Carol is always one of the smiliest.
Go slow rule for walking
FOR more than 130 years, ramblists have used something called Naismith’s Rule to work out how long it will take them to do a specific walk.
This Victorian yardstick says you should do a kilometre every 15 minutes plus ten minutes for every hundred metres you climb.
Getty Keen walkers should ditch Naismith’s Rule and try my alternative instead
However, it turns out that no one goes that quickly any more.
I know I don’t. I walk so slowly that you’d need a theodolite and some satellites to work out that I am moving at all.
When I walk to the paper shop on a Saturday, I usually arrive just in time to read all about that afternoon’s football results.
I’m overtaken by little old ladies and people with broken legs. Once, even James May went past in his Porsche. I’m talking slow. Really slow.
So, in future, if you’re planning a walk, use Clarkson’s Rule which says that you should cover a kilometre in about a week and that you should avoid hills altogether as climbing them will hurt your thighs.
Booze ruse…
INTERESTING news from not inside the pub.
Back in 2005, a survey found that 64.2 per cent of those questioned said they’d had an alcoholic drink in the previous week.
Whereas in 2017, the number had fallen to 57 per cent. And more amazing still, one adult in every five now never drinks at all.
Some say this explains why the sales of non- or low-alcohol beers are booming, but I’m not so sure.
Giving up the booze then ­drinking ­something which tastes similar is like constantly reminding yourself about what’s missing from your life.
Far better surely to move on to Robinsons Lemon Barley Water, which reminds you only of your childhood.
And which, I can assure you, tastes a million times nicer than any beer-free beer.

My Bond plot is a blast
RECENT Bond films have been box office hits and I’m sure the new one, which went into production this week, will be no different.
But I want more Moore.
Alamy Daniel Craig needs to take a leaf out of Roger Moore’s book for the new Bond film
Daniel Craig spends far too much time acting and nowhere near enough cheekily helping himself to a grape from the fruit bowl, before swiftly leaving a girl’s bedroom.
And the storylines are all too serious.
The alcoholism. The soul-searching. The suggestion 007 might have tried homosexuality. Give me a break.
If I want serious, I’ll watch Jason Bourne or listen to Radio 4.
Bond is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek. Know the name for every fish in Latin, shoot a man with metal teeth in the face then sleep with the baddie’s girlfriend.
Everything blows up. The end.
Amsterdam’s leading the wayAS anyone who has ever been on a stag night knows, Amsterdam is a city where anything goes. And everything usually does.
But behind the scenes, it’s a very different story.
Prostitution, for example, is legal but all the girls must have their ­fingernails checked by ­government inspectors every so often to make sure they aren’t jaggedy enough to split a ­condom.
And now comes news that kids are being forced to go to school on bikes with no ­pedals.
Apparently, this has something to do with the war on obesity.
Other things. Any McDonald’s near a school is only allowed to serve children fruit, Coca-Cola is banned from sponsoring anything and in school, only tap water is ­provided.
It all sounds very draconian and fierce but it’s working.
Across the rest of Holland, kids keep ­getting fatter, but in Amsterdam the number of lard arses has fallen by 12 per cent.

Silence speaks volumes
THIS week, a friend suggested I watch a 2017 movie called God’s Own Country.
It didn’t seem to be my cup of tea but as it had won every award there is, and scored about 165 per cent on Rotten Tomatoes, I thought I’d give it a go.
Alamy God’s Own Country was a pleasant surprise as I have never known a film say so much without really saying anything at all
Set on a farm in the Yorkshire Dales, it tells the unbearably bleak story of a gay shepherd who spends his entire life with his hand up various bottoms, some of which are at the back of cows and sheep.
There is very little music and very little dialogue. But I’ve never known a film say so much without really saying anything at all.
It is a genuine masterpiece.

I PLAYED tennis with my son this morning.
He beat me 6-2, 6-1 and is now out of the will.
Josh O’Connor stars in God’s Own Country


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