I clear my throat diffidently. 'There is one thing we might try. As you know I had the foresight to bring many rolls of clingfilm with us for emergencies just such as this.'

'I scoffed at the time but now I perceive you were wise. You will wrap me in cling-film at once.'

I retrieve some cling-film from the Clingfilm Stowage Compartment where several hundred of the translucent rolls of joy glint softly in the cabin lights.

Roy Orbison unbuckles from his seat and floats out into the middle of the cabin, his black clothing billowing about him in the zero gravity like the folds of some black cloth manta ray. 'Commence,' he says.