Does nuclear fusion mean we avoid those high heating bills?

As Prof Schlenk gets fizzy about fusion, Kenny is fixated on the World Cup final

PROFESSOR HECTOR SCHLENK, SENIOR RESEARCH FELLOW AT THE BOGTON INSTITUTE FOR PUBLIC ENGAGEMENT WITH SCIENCE, AND AUTHOR OF THE SCIENTIFICALLY ACCURATE BOOK OF CHRISTMAS SONGS (INCLUDES THE HIT, DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR OR IS OUR PERCEPTION OF REALITY ENTIRELY SUBJECTIVE?)

As a scientist, I was particularly excited this week by the major breakthrough in recreating nuclear fusion, which took place at the National Ignition Facility in California. Partly because this has been a scientific dream for decades as a means to a limitless source of potential clean energy, but mostly because any experiment which heats something to 100 million degrees is very welcome when it’s absolutely baltic.

Nuclear fusion is known as the holy grail of energy production, and is the process which powers the sun. I refer to the enormous yellow ball of boiling hydrogen that we see in the sky, and not the tabloid newspaper, which is powered not by fusion, but by a depressingly potent combination of gossip and prejudice.

Nuclear fusion works by taking pairs of atoms and smashing them together, as distinct from nuclear fission, where atoms are split apart. This latter process, as we know, produces hazardous by-products and harmful radiation and, therefore, can be (as anyone old enough to remember that bit in Robocop with the nuclear waste tank will tell you) quite dangerous.

The reverse process of nuclear fusion produces far more energy, negligible waste, and no greenhouse gas emissions. The problem, however, is that it requires staggeringly high temperatures to work.

The latest experiment managed to achieve the long sought-after goal of producing more energy than was put in in the first place. Although this represents a

true breakthrough moment, the output of 3.25 MJ (MJ is abbreviation for megajoules – a scientific unit of energy – not a very large, boogie-woogie piano player) is only enough power to boil 20 kettles.

Importantly, this does not mean that, if you boil 20 kettles simultaneously, you will produce nuclear fusion; though, if my experience is anything to go by, you will be chucked out of Currys.

CAVA KENNY CORDINER, THE FOOTBALL PUNDIT WHO SEPARATES THE SHEEPS FROM THE GOAT

Old Kenny is back once again to give you the low-down-low on the goings on at the greatest show on earth what should never have happened in the first place, the Catarrh World Cup.

Since my regulatory readers last readed the stuff what I wrote, we’ve seen the quarter-finals and the semi-finals decide which two nations will stick each other in the final. And I cannot wait to see France’s Mbop, the pretender to the throw-in, and

Argentina’s Messi, the GOAT of all time, show the rest of the world how it’s done.

The quarter-finals was magic, but my coupon at the bookies was busted big style. I couldn’t believe it when Croatia turned over Brazil. They’ve got an amazing record in these tournaments have the Creosotes.

They’ve been in the final once and the semis twice since the country was invented in 1998, which is admonishing, since their population is less than four million. Even Scotland has got more folk, although we do have the disadvantage of being mince.

The other result that scuppered my bet was Morocco beating the Portugeezers. Cristiano Ronaldo was on the bench for that one, and when he come on he was hopeless, and clearly in the huff. His silky skills looks like they has deserted him, but his sulky skills was top-notch.

Of course, the big quarter-final was England v France. I’m not Auntie English by any stench of the emancipation, but, ever since me and Dunter Duncan done that booze cruise to Calais on the old P&J ferry, I’ve

always considered myself to have something of an amenity for Patti LaBelle France.

For the quarter-final, I had £20 on 2-1 France. When Harry Kane ballooned his second penalty over the bar, I was coq-au-hoop!

I had gone the whole hog for the match – French flag face paint, French onion soup for my supper. I even wore a blue and white striped top. Melody says to me, she says: “I never knew you had a marinière shirt.” Bless her. I never had the heart to tell her it’s pronounced “Morton”.

I’m not Auntie English by any stench of the emancipation

ENERGY DRINK: When the ‘breakthrough’ in nuclear fusion generated enough energy to boil 20 kettles, Prof Schenk bubbled over.