It is like having a picture of your gurning face sticky-taped to the side of a rocket.
While you’re getting on with your day, the Cape Canaveral countdown has begun.
As you take the bins out, that countdown reaches single figures.
As you iron your clothes, badly, it all looks orange and hot at the base of the launchpad.
And as you try, and fail, to persuade your three-year-old daughter not to lick that shop window on the way to the newsagents, the pointy bit of metal, complete with your mugshot, is hurtling towards the heavens.
Before you even know it, it is out of sight and out of control.
I speak of the experience of ‘going viral’.
If you had used those words a decade ago, people would have…