I stared sadly at the wreckage of my house. What had been a rather nice semi-detached townhouse dating back to the Victorian era was now a crushed pile of rubble. On top of it, the similarly buggered wreckage of a television satellite glistened in the midday sun. A device that had, until minutes ago, been broadcasting sports, drama, comedy and lunchtime porn to millions had now destroyed most of my life. A life, rather ironically, dedicated mainly to sports, drama, comedy and lunchtime porn. Behind me, a Sky news team filmed live coverage of the disaster, unaware that they were unable to transmit it.
Billy Bragg was right. It's wrong to wish on space hardware.