Avid NewsJunkies (and nerdy science types) won't have missed the really important story of the week: the International Astronomical Union met in Prague and declared that the ninth planet, Pluto, was, in fact, a planet.  

Pavarotti is surely now bigger than Pluto

You'd be wrong. This is just the thin end of the wedge. Pluto's fate matters. Pluto was a planet to begin with, and it didn't need this shameless political fix to bring it back into a club where it already belonged. I for one have had enough, and I've decided to send a message to the the whores of the IAU and their pathetic failure to stand up to the bullies of the ‘Pluto is a Planet' brigade.  

But first the basics - I know you're all wondering - how does something get made a planet in the first place? Well, Curiosity Show fans, I'm glad you asked.¹  

As we all know, anything to do with space is fantastically exciting, and the process of deciding whether something is a planet or not is no exception. It's brilliant. It works like this: A bunch of astronomer dudes meet in Prague. 2,500 of them, in fact (which means that, yes, while they're in town they can all have a look at the big telescope at Prague University but only if they are really, really quick so that everyone can have a go). After a gruelling selection process that mostly involves them working out who, like, knows about girls and stuff, a group of them get together and decide on a new definiton of a planet. The highly prestigious group who come up with the new definition of a planet are called ... wait for it ... a bit longer ... milk it, milk it ... c'mon ... here it is ... almost there ... the IAU Planet Definition Committee! (ta da!). 

Okay, so perhaps it isn't that exciting.  

But the idea of planetary definition has something going for it, you must admit. Imagine – you get to decide literally on the fate of worlds. For one God-like moment, you would hold absolute sway over the cold-dwelling zoid-people of Pluto, as they wave their tentacular fronds, raise their weird freaky faces up to peer into the methane gloom and wonder – will our planet be saved, or will we be cast out of the pantheon to dwell on some lame "Kuiper belt body" for all eternity? Rub your fronds together and pray, little Plutonoid boy, rub and pray to the titans of the IAU! 

The new criteria for planethood are: firstly, the object must be heavy enough to form a sphere under the weight of its own gravitational field, and second, it must orbit a star.  

Apparently, the list of objects that are now planets under the new rules doesn't stop at Pluto but includes: 2003 UB313, a cold rocky ball which has something called an "eccentric orbit" and seems, as far as I can ascertain, to hang out somewhere beyond the point at which is in any way sensible to be; a lump of poo that was fished out of the International Space Station at the same time as that boy-band guy; Shane Warne; Ceres, the largest asteriod in the field between Mars and Jupiter; and Charon, which was previously Pluto's ‘moon', but has now been classified as a ‘co-equal partner in planethood' to Pluto itself.  

Most astronomers, bowing to the fashion of the time, have pushed for Pluto to be stripped of its status as a planet. Defenders of Pluto have mounted a spirited political defence of its planetenatious character.² A massive writing campaign by America's schoolchildren sought to ensure that, whatever was decided, Pluto would get to stay in the planetary club. Professional astronomers who saw advancement in pushing the Plutonic cause rallied round. They are already seeing their pay-off; as one perspective-impaired astronomer noted on his blog somewhat wistfully this week, "Dwarf Planets May Finally Get Respect". (Sure. Yeah. That's going to happen. Just like what happened with dwarf elephants, dwarf schausers, dwarf people and ... well, dwarves, I guess. Sheesh!). 

The science was long ago junked for a vague sense of ‘I'm OK, you're OK' feelgood pop planetology. Dana Sobel, a writer who was on the IAU panel, told America's public radio network, NPR that "people love Pluto, children identify with its smallness," although she felt moved to add that "adults relate to its inadequacy, its marginal existence as a misfit." Which tells you a lot of about the kind of adults who hang out with Dana Sobel at the IAU, I guess. (Turns out she's hardly an impartial observer. In her book, The Planets, Pluto already has a chapter. And yet they let her on the IAUPDC? The fix is in!) 

Schoolkids across America write in, trying to ‘save' their favourite planet. An international agency shamelessly bowing to pressure. The very concept of a planet becoming a political football – and we're talking about worlds here people, worlds! This slimy back-down demonstrates just how deeply the rot in the world of astronomy really goes. It's time to get angry. It's time to take back our own sense of planetologicality.³  

Dear God, people, remember when it was all about the astronomy? When the word of the IAU really meant something – when you could look at your textbooks and say, yes, there are nine planets. Nine, and only nine. And now what? Fifteen planets, and that doesn't even include a late application by media agents acting for Luciano Pavarotti. Planethood for sale! Planets for all! 

Enough is enough. These are our planets. There are nine of them. Mercury, the winged messenger. Venus, the goddess of love. Earth, our blue home. Mars, the graveyard of stupid British robots. Jupiter, the gas giant. Saturn, the one with the big ears. Neptune, the other one. Uranus, named for the Greek god of bum jokes. And Pluto, the cartoon dog. 

The people have spoken. And if you listen carefully, that faint sound in response is the sound of a million tiny, clapping fronds.  

Footnotes 

1) Is that guy dead? Was his moustache anything like as big as I remember? Am I the only one who remembers him?
2) OK, so I just made up the word ‘planetenatious’. But it could be a word. Maybe, perhaps, ‘planetatious’?
3) I’m just guessing now. Planetesquacity? Planetopacity? Planetousness?