In a spectacle that could only be described as a celestial belch, Jeff Bezos' Blue Origin rocket decided to audition for a role in a Michael Bay film, detonating over Florida with the grace of a flatulent swan. The explosion, a firework display of misplaced ambition, scattered debris across the swampy tundra of Cape Canaveral, much to the delight of local alligators who now have a new chew toy. Meanwhile, in the grey doldrums of British engineering offices, tea cups trembled not from the shockwave but from the sheer audacity of American bravado meeting physics.
'Frankly,' a nameless engineer slurped, 'we'd have spotted that faulty o-ring over a proper cuppa.' The incident has sparked a flurry of safety audits, with UK experts now scrutinising every bolt and bracket on future missions, armed with clipboards and a sense of smugness that only the British can muster when someone else's rocket goes boom. Bezos, perhaps now considering a career in underwater basket weaving, has yet to comment, though his lawyers are reportedly drafting a strongly worded letter to gravity itself.
As the charred remains smoulder, one thing is clear: space remains the domain of the foolish and the well-insured.
