Where i grew up there was an old drunken crocodile shooter called Sputnik. Apparently he and and a group of cronies in fit of patroitism at the time of Russia's success had their own space programme going. We are talking about 4 derilects on a 2 month bender using 2 44gallon drums welded together with a charge of explosive underneath. The cosomonout was our hero with a dog for a co-pilot and a bottle of rum for rations. Of course the dog died and Sputnik became a resident of the hospital for a long while.