Cheers!

The revelation that certain NASA astronauts have been caught ‘drunk on the job’ comes as no surprise to those of us who have closely watched the space race between the USA and the former USSR over the last 50 years.

It takes a certain courage to willingly strap yourself into half a ton of metal and be hurtled up into the bleak nothingness of space. And I don’t think it’s such a great secret that much of this courage is the Dutch variety.

In an age when some people seem to need a few swigs of whisky just to run a minor political party, should we be surprised that someone exposing themselves to the pressures of space travel might need the odd drink or two?

We shouldn’t be overly critical. Just lately, I find I need at least a couple of beers before I can be cajoled upstairs to nestle into the (admittedly ample) bosom of Mrs Blunt, so heaven knows how many crates of Budweiser I’d need before I could be persuaded to travel higher than 20,000 feet.

The Russians started it, of course. They established early on that a few vodkas didn’t get in the way of successful space flight, just as their initial experiment with sending a dog into space was designed to prove that it was possible to smoke up there. The plucky cosmonauts (Yuri Gagarin, in particular) had put their foot down, and refused to contemplate being rocketed into the ionosphere unless their nerves could be calmed by a few cigarettes during the process.

That’s why, when the Americans docked with the Russian space station, Mir, in 1997, they were alarmed to find the place awash with empty fag packets and vodka bottles, the whole place little more than a revolving, 120-ton garbage can by this stage. In the fine spirit of détente, they soon found themselves relaxing with their Soviet colleagues, even if their Cosmos cigarettes (famously advertised by Gagarin as 'The best in the Universe!') were a little harsh to their taste. Little wonder that there were reports of 'a small fire' and a 'collision with an unmanned spacecraft' during the American stay on Mir.

But no great harm came of it, at the end of the day.

So, let’s back off from criticising the brave lads and lasses who traverse the universe on our behalf, and salute them – or ‘Salut!’ as they say in Spain. They're as entitled to a good drink and a drag on a cigarette as anybody else.