Since cottoning on to the panspermia hypothesis, once a month, when Lisa's got the painters in, Mario throttles up on a spot of getting acquainted with Mrs. Palm and her five lovely daughters, all al fresco style in the great Cheshire countryside (hey, who wouldn't, yeah?), and fires off a hand shandy of sufficient volume, vivacity and velocity to escape both Earth's atmosphere and the solar system's gravity well. He sees it as one way of giving a little back to the the universe in general, but he doesn't like to bring it up in conversation (in a manner of speaking). Start building an ark.