|Artist's impression of the Alien space ship|
Breaking news from the sleepy hamlet of Tipton
Today, it was announced that an alien space craft had been unearthed in the used car lot of 'Mr Mugumbo’s Used Car Lot Emporium'. In Mr Mugumbo's own words: “I had occasion to be rewinding a particularly recalcitrant speedometer when I espied an extra-terrestrial craft residing on a pile of bricks in the corner of my used car lot. On further inspection I perceived that the object was made of a peculiarly tinted, non-terrestrial, eerily glinting, metal- clearly not of this world. Scorch marks surrounded the craft; bleak testament to its violent pyrotechnic landing. Indeed, as I advanced, with caution, I could make out eldritch markings, no doubt carved by outré beings from an advanced alien civilisation hailing from a distant galaxy far, far away……(steady, Mugumbo). In the failing light I saw etched in base relief: 'Ford Tipex'. What could these alien preternatural glyphs purport and reveal? It suddenly occurred to my racing, febrile, pyretic imagination: what if the alien being was resident, clutching the controls of this highly advanced interplanetary craft? I peeked within and was startled to observe a hideous alien creature. Not only was the alien present, but he had taken on the rubicund form of the local, itinerant (tis surely an oxymoron), homeless inebriate, ‘Filthy Eric’. Mayhap this transformation was an attempt to allay our mortal fears and to clothe their alien countenance in familiar garb in order not to evoke consternation and loathing (too late). Perhaps their original form was so bizarre, so outlandish, that it would elicit paroxysms of terror in mere earthlings?
A loud Parrrrrp! emanated from the spacecraft and a strange unearthly odour pervaded, prevailed and assailed my nostrils. Could it be that the alien life form was trying to communicate through the medium of olfaction? Sensing my confusion, the advanced being (for it is it) modified its approach and began to speak in a slurred metallic monotone: “Ya me bessie mate, I love ya. Go on gissus 20 quid for a pack of Special Brew and 20 fags.” What could this mean? I confess I struggled with the alien utterance. The alien then offered up a cunningly fashioned flask and beckoned for me to imbibe the elixir contained therein. Could it confer eternal life? I drank deep of the draught. My head began to spin and my senses began to cloud. Later that day I awoke totally naked draped upon the alien vessel. My head throbbed abominably and my arse ached as if a thousand gypos were ensconced and encamped in my lower colon (arse, big sore arse). I could only infer that I had been ‘anally probed’. The extra-terrestrial creature was nowhere to be seen. I could only surmise that he had returned to his distant planet many thousands of light years away. Would he ever return one day, with my wallet? Only time will tell………..”
|Alien in the guise of 'Filthy Eric'|