There are some things to be said in favour of the planet Mars. Its atmosphere contains almost no oxygen, the temperature in winter reaches minus 143˚C, it is exceptionally arid and dusty, and any human travelling to the place would receive sufficient solar radiation to be lit up like a Russian dissident. My problem with the place, though, is that it is only 33 million miles distant. It is altogether too close for comfort, virtually a stone’s throw away. Mercury, I think, or better still Pluto, would be far more fun. On Mercury, incineration would be instantaneous. However it is Pluto that really fits the bill. It is three billion miles away, roughly — and bracingly chilly, a little like Hull in January. And also airless and bleak and devoid of light. Perfect. In deep space, nobody can you hear from the Diary Room.
I suppose it had to happen.
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