The Mars Express, the mothership which carried the ill-fated British Beagle 2 probe, made an unexpected discovery at the weekend. While scanning detailed images of the Red Planet that were being fired back from the spacecraft to the European Space Agency, scientists were astonished to see Kathy Lette, purveyor of dismal pun-laden chick-lit, painting her toenails approximately 15 miles NNW of the Flaugergues drainage basin.

Professor David Southwood said that this was a hopeful sign that her “kooky, sexy and allegedly humorous novels” may be finally consigned to deepest space.

Kathy Lette was thought to be living in London with her husband and two kids, but rumours had been circulating that she was taking a break from updating her thigh-slapping Quiplash page to do some research “somewhere hot and sultry, away from blokes”.

Her new novel, with some nonsensical name like “Webbing Belles” in which a pair of high-flying, gorgeous city gals scupper their chances of imminent marriage to their hunksome French boyfriends by damaging the skin between their fingers (or other such drivel) is probably out, soonish.