Mantford Mountfichet, the world’s worst astronaut, reached out for a beam of light, but it slipped from his grasp.

So he returned to his home in the Wiltshire village of Middle Mallet.
Hearing of his escapades in The UFO Watcher’s Journal, 
professor Samuel Sopwith turned up at The Horse and Ass, a quaint litte hostelry. 

‘I’m starry eyed,’ he said to the barmaid, Dorothy Dasher, who ran for Mallett Harriers.

‘So,’ he continued, ‘I vowed to meet Mantford Mountfichet, for I’m told he’s a remarkable man.

‘I’ve been watching all the sci-fi films, War of the Worlds in particular, with machines shooting deadly rays.

‘Ah, but they fell apart, didn’t they,’ asked Dorothy, ‘when shaken by a massive sneeze?

‘Anyway, are you sure this chap is all he appears to be?

‘He’s rumuored to be the worst of all stargazers?

‘I don’t want to burst your bubble.’

‘For he’s known to imbibe what locals call ‘super-charged’ grass,
as groundsman for the rugby club.’

The professor bid her a reluctant ‘good night’, but unable to wait, walked up to visit his idol.

There was no answer, but he could see a lawn mower speeding into the sky,
emitting a stream of fertiliser.

‘Ah,’ he mused, ‘Maybe the barmaid was right, and the grass is super-powered.’

To his amazement, Dorothy leaped over a gate, crying ‘Quick!

I know where Mountfitchet will land, he’s been setting off for Mars on his lawnmower.

'But he always turns back, confused by the region known as the Frederick Funcia Stargate.

‘But never mind him, come and cuddle me in the hay rick, I’m shattered after pouring pints at the pub.’

There a bond was forged among two unlikely souls, one from a world of academia, and a young woman whose childhood was affected by a condition called dyslexia.

She fervently wished to leave the constraints of her birthplace,
saying, ‘I’m told I can excel at middle-distance, as one night, my PE teacher, Gary Gumstree, saw me racing across the common to reach Unmanning-Manor College for Girls’, before lights out, and thus avoid the wrath of headmistress, Frederika Fandanning.

‘He threatened to tell all.

‘So I gave him a kiss, and his wife found a shirt covered in lipstick.

‘But he did tell me that high altitude boosts anaerobic ability.

‘That’s necessary for distance running.

‘So, let’s escape this low-lying locality, nick his mower and head for a distant world, professor sexy Samuel.’

They found the astronaut asleep, so took over his flying mower which,
due to the cold night mist, coughed and spluttered, but then took off with a roar.

The missing barmaid was believed to have run off with a PE teacher
from a college for girls, but to her family's amazement, popped up at the Olympics, winning a gold medal.

An unknown athlete, her performance caused a great furore.

Her story Medalling with the Stars, sold like hot pies on a cold afternoon, as my old dad would say, much to her old headmistress’s, Fredirika Fanstock’s consternation.

Nevertheless, these tales helped her former pupil become a celebrity,
campaigning for those who, like her, are dyslexic.

Her husband, professorial Sam, one day, musing on the way things had turned out, after he came looking for a space traveller, suddenly asked Dorothy, ‘What’s happened to our flying machine?’

She laughed, ‘Guess who was in the pub, none other than Mantford Mountfichet!’

‘Really? I know he’s a regular at The Horse and Ass.’

‘Yes,’ his wife agreed, ‘but last night he sobbed into his ale, as he admitted to wimping out from an outer space journey, crying, ‘I grabbed for a beam of light, but it slipped from my grasp.

‘Oh, I am a coward!’

‘To encourage the poor sop, I said I’d achieved my ambition.

I added, ‘So why don’t you?

‘Then he took it, our space hopper I mean.

‘The one people say isn’t real.

‘There he is, heading into a cloud.

'Wish him good luck on his final adventure.’

To conclude, Mantford Mountfichet is no longer the world’s worst astronaut.

The publication also reported that scientists are examining his barn in Middle Matchet, for the secret to his flying lawn mower.