Greenpeace has failed, call in the Spitfires.

For really quite a while now, the spitfires, hurricanes, etc. have been lying around uselessly, carefully cultivating rust and enjoying the journey to legendhood. As have their pilots. If we're honest, they're all getting just a bit on the comfortable side, with their vintage couches and vintage wives. I bet if you invited your grandad to have a whirl in one of his old buddies he'd be absolutely useless. When I say old buddies, I mean the planes, obviously.

Speaking of uselessness, in our attempt to solve the whole problem of our planet dying slightly faster than is comfortable, we've had a go, and so far the massed intelligence and originality of the planet has come up with the G-Wiz and Windmills. Pathetic. Admittedly, some of the really bright sparks secluded themselves in volcanoes with foil on the inside of their doors, but now they've all gone and exploded, which is hardly going to help.

I think, after seeing off Hitler, the challenge of dealing with some of the problems wouldn't be too much of a strain on the tired old RAF fighters. Sure, they'd need a bit of practice, but I'm confident it wouldn't take very long to reacquaint themselves with all the flying and shooting.

I'm thinking of acid rain here, in particular. I did a bit of research about this, and it turns out that acid rain is fairly much a self-explanatory title. So, what do we need? An alkali, obviously, if you've been paying attention in science. Where, I hear you ask in a slightly exasperated voice, with much eye rolling and tutting, are we going to find one of those? And this is the real genius of my plan. Bath bombs.

In a gargantuan effort that had me sweating like a pig's nether regions in a shiny volcano house, I went on wikipedia and did even more research, finding that spitfires used standard 20mm cannons. This left me feeling so well informed I publicly disagreed with Ian Hislop, Stephen Hawking, Jeremy Paxman and Steven Fry all at once.

Once my ego was back to normal, I consulted the National Bath Bomb Appreciation Society's website (I am not joking), and it turns out the your average bath bomb diameter is as near as makes no difference 20mm. Coincidence? I think not.

So, you've got your Spitfires and grandads out of retirement (saving money for the government, incidentally. Ah, sometimes my genius amazes me), you've got your acid rain clouds looking evil, like Hitler, you've got your alkali bath bombs which fit perfectly into the Spitfire's guns. All that remains is to watch in awe as a terrifying yet slightly one sided air battle ensues, with clouds, bath bombs and hip replacements flying about the atmosphere. And at the end of it, people no longer have to drive cars that look and sound like genetically modified plastic kitchen accessories which have come to life. Touché.

I won't be posting for a couple of days, as I am going on holiday. Enjoy your drab, wretched lives, or at least the next couple of days of them.