In a move that has sent shivers of both excitement and mild nausea through the British space industry, a co-founder of SpaceX has proudly declared himself ‘employee number one’ as the company makes its long-awaited debut on these sceptred isles. Yes, you read that right. The man who helped propel Elon Musk’s interplanetary ambitions from a glint in a billionaire’s eye to a reality involving exploding rockets and electric saloon cars has now set his sights on the land of drizzle and deregulation.
One can almost hear the collective sharp intake of breath from the suits at the UK Space Agency. They’ve been banging on about ‘soaring ambitions’ for years, but let’s be honest, Britain’s space programme has about as much thrust as a damp firework. We’ve got a spaceport in Cornwall that looks like a failed holiday camp, and a rocket built by a company that went bust before it could even get off the ground. Now, here comes a man who actually *has* sent things into orbit, and he wants to be the new kid on the block. Or rather, employee number one.
What does this mean for the great British public? Will we soon be able to book a weekend trip to a space hotel using our Tesco Clubcard points? Or will it simply mean more congestion on the M4 as rocket parts are transported from Slough to some yet-to-be-identified launch site in the Outer Hebrides? The press release, as slick as a NASA press conference, talks of ‘unleashing potential’ and ‘creating a vibrant space ecosystem’. Translation: they want to plunder our skilled engineers, grab our government subsidies, and sell us tickets to the moon for the price of a small flat in Zone 3.
But let’s not be too cynical. After all, this is the man who helped create the Falcon 9, the rocket that can land itself on a drone ship like a particularly graceful seagull on a fish supper. If he can bring even a fraction of that American derring-do to Britain’s space effort, then perhaps we might finally have something to brag about at the pub. Imagine: ‘My other car is a Mars rover.’ Or perhaps: ‘I’m sorry, I can’t make the meeting. I’ll be in low Earth orbit, sorting out the broadband.’
The government, predictably, is giddy with excitement. A spokesperson for the Department for Business and Trade described the move as ‘a vote of confidence in the UK’s world-leading space sector’. World-leading? In what, exactly? In the number of hazy policy documents about ‘space strategy’? In the quantity of drizzle that falls on our launchpads? Still, if there’s one thing the British establishment loves, it’s a bit of private enterprise to bail them out of their own ineptitude.
As for the co-founder himself, he has been pictured wearing a Union Jack waistcoat and clutching a cup of tea, which he probably called ‘a cuppa’ while simultaneously trying to get it past security in a vacuum chamber. He spoke of his ‘deep respect for British innovation’ and his desire to ‘help the UK take its rightful place among the stars’. All very noble, until you remember that SpaceX is primarily in the business of launching satellites for internet constellations that will let you tweet from the bottom of the Mariana Trench.
But who are we to quibble? If this means that one day soon I can sip a gin and tonic in orbit while looking down at the British Isles and chuckling at the M25, then I say: strap me in, fill the tanks with whatever passes for rocket fuel these days, and let’s get this show on the road. Just make sure the gin is properly chilled. And that there’s a loo. Because nothing ruins a cosmic experience like having to hold it in for six hours whilst floating in zero gravity.
In the meantime, let’s watch with bated breath as the ‘employee number one’ gets to work. The UK’s space ambitions are so high that they’re almost in danger of becoming credible. And that, dear readers, is the most terrifying prospect of all.
