MORE than 26,000 people have submitted ideas

for the name of the Swindon-based UK Space

Agency’s European ExoMars rover.

Some of them, no doubt remembering the

Boaty McBoatface affair a while back, have

suggested Drilly McDrillface and assorted

variations.

They’re not likely to get their wish, which is a

bit of a shame.

For one thing, it’s not as though whimsical

names have no place in space travel. The Apollo

astronauts who went to the moon gave their

craft a variety of names including Charlie Brown,

Snoopy, Gumdrop, Spider and Casper - as in

Casper the Friendly Ghost.

For another, calling the probe Drilly

McDrillface or something else a bit daft would

send a hell of an important message to potential

future scientists: “Just because science involves

dead hard sums, dangerous substances in jars

and stuff like that, it doesn’t mean you have to be

completely serious all the time.”

There’s also the commercial angle to think of.

Science, no matter how important, is obliged to

vie for limited funding.

Things would be rather easier if science

could rely on some Thomas the Tank Enginestyle

books, cartoons, DVDs, video games,

backpacks, pencil cases and stuff a reasonably

astute marketing agency might come up with.

If I worked for the UK Space Agency, I’d be

urging the folks at the top to get in touch with TV

production companies and publishers as soon

as possible. While I was at it, I’d be in touch with

all the other branches of science and asking

them to do the same.

Nobody would need to beg for Government

funding if they were about to open a Nobby the

Nuclear Reactor theme park.

LEFT, RIGHT MIDDLE... THEY ALL NEED HELP

ALWAYS on the lookout for side jobs to give me a bit of extra income, I’ve decided to become a political consultant.

For a small financial consideration I’m happy to do all I can to help parties, factions and other political bodies - left, right or somewhere in between - make themselves more appealing to the electorate than the opposition.

It’s a crowded market, but I like to think the unique services I plan to offer will put me ahead of my competitors.

All the other political consultants do little more than dole out rather obvious advice to their clients.

For example, they might say: “If you’re going to get up on your hind legs and lecture us all about tightening our belts and living within our means, try not to claim your grocery shopping on expenses or have the taxpayer spring for your kids’ air-conditioned gerbil cage.

“Also, if you’re planning to promote an image of yourself as some sort of down to earth, horny-handed son of toil, make sure to carefully cover up the fact that you went to an exclusive private school, you’ve never had a proper job in your life and the nearest you’ve come to hardship was when beastly Mummy and Daddy refused to buy you a spare pony for your ninth birthday.

“Oh, and if you plan on making your political name as a staunch campaigner for traditional morality and family values, you might want to ensure there’s no video evidence of your fondness for being chained in a dungeon with a pillowcase full of distressed budgies tied over your head, while a bloke dressed as The Great Gonzo flogs you with rhubarb.”

All of that is sound advice, of course, but it is defensive, and we all know that in the modern political world it’s best to go on the offensive - but you have do it in very clever ways because voters have never been more sophisticated.

One of the things I plan to do for my clients is recruit brilliant actors to pose as members of opposing organisations and do things which wreak utter havoc on the images of those opposing organisations.

For example, if a client wanted to wreck the image of a nationalist group - and assuming its image hasn’t already been wrecked ages ago - I’d hire a bunch of people to pose as members of that group.

Then I’d have them dress up in what look like the remnants from a British Union of Fascists bring and buy sale, invade some location, shout obscenities, be a bit intimidating and perhaps indulge in a spot of light vandalism.

There are many potential locations for such activities, but a bookshop is always a good bet as it conjures memories of what went on in Germany in the 1930s.

If a client wanted to wreck the image of a political organisation at the opposite end of the ideological spectrum, that might be a bit more tricky - but nothing I couldn’t handle.

Once again, I’d use a bunch of actors. Their job would be to say and do things most decent people, whether on the left, right or in the centre, would find utterly horrible - and then refuse to apologise or else issue non-apologies which convinced precisely nobody.

The number of horrible things to say is limited only by a speaker’s imagination, but there are a number of old faithfuls sure to do the job.

These include, to choose an example at random, suggesting that some minority group is sinister, conspiratorial, self-interested and responsible for some if not all of the world’s ills.

As with the bookshop tactic, this is guaranteed to conjure images of bad things done in Germany during the 1930s, ensuring that droves of potential supporters are thoroughly disgusted.