Raptus Regaliter

Recently I took a course at the NASA Astronaut Training Centre. I gained top marks as a space shuttle pilot. All I had to go was get in her and take her up to heaven and back.  With my experience that was no problem, although the vibration caused a couple of things to drop off.  I have it on good authority that I make one hell of a re-entry - which is why that female astronaut wore diapers. I certainly had no shortage of volunteers to polish my rocket.

You just can't keep a good man down, I say. Unless they invent an antidote to viagra.

I was sent to the International Space Station to keep an eye on suspected sabotage. It was either sabotage or too many prunes. All was well until it was time to fly my ship back to Earth, with a female colleage. I'd just coaxed her round and was on final approach when her docking ring blew off, then she flipped over and went ballistic. It was a hell of a struggle to hold her - I had to make an emergency docking manoevre with the rear hatch, otherwise I'd have been sucked off in space. I'd just managed to reach my apogee, when Mission control ordered us to get dressed and get in the capsule.

I'd tell you more, but I'd have to kill you first.

Suffice to say, I'm the reason the female astronauts couldn't walk.