The way you define yourself as a writer is that you write every time you have a free minute. If you didn’t behave that way you would never do anything.
Ladies, gentlemen and anyone else who might be tuning into this frequency — this evening I bring you grave news.
We know now that in the early years of the 21st Century, this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man’s. These beings from we know not where monitored us closely, assessing coldly, calculating facts and figures in manners we ourselves would have found unfathomable. They watched and they waited, patient as geological time, undeniable, rigorous — preparing for the moment when they would set out.
And so they came. With technologies far advanced, they travelled light-years at close to lightspeed, warping and distorting — spacetime the stuff they wished to make it.
In the early hours of last Sunday, they arrived at their destination. Earth, that green and blue planet we call home. Lights in the sky were first seen in the Lincolnshire town of Conisholme. Local ufologists reported that the number of sightings was the second largest in local ufology history. A Mr Palmer reported: “I actually saw a white light – a round, white light that seemed to be hovering.”
When the time came to make themselves known to us, however — that “take me to your leader” moment that so many of us have been expecting and, perhaps, dreading for many a year — we were to be disappointed.
You see, these are not the infallible creatures we imagined them to be. After travelling light-years, distorting spacetime, creating wormholes with the flick of a switch — no doubt whilst munching on a ham and cheese toasted sandwich — a quite possibly tragic accident occurred.
They crashed into a wind turbine and had to bugger off home to make emergency repairs.
… Being a ufologists must be such a difficult occupation. Whatever Mulder and Scully fantasies I might occasionally entertain, I very much doubt I’d be up to the job. The disappointment I could probably bear, but certainly not the carpal tunnel syndrome from all the desperate grasping at straws that the job requires.