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A lovely winter's tale

December 01 2022
The Homeless People © Eve McDougall The Homeless People © Eve McDougall

In this otherworldly story, a hideous rhubarb-faced creature speaks (to an alien). By Chris Sampson

Journalistic integrity is supposed to get both sides of the story. But when people claim to have been abducted by aliens, no one ever seems to get the otherworldly creature’s version of events.  So in the interests of equal time, the Pavement sent this reporter on an all-expenses-spared trip to UFO Central. Which is, of course, in…?

Roswell, New Mexico? Nope. Then surely the Blaze Channel on Freeview, which is festooned with shows about, erm, shall we say, unusual ideas? Not even close. The Bermuda Triangle, then?

Ah! Not quite. Yet its UK equivalent – The South London Dodecahedron – has long been a hotbed of weird and wonderful characters and goings-on. So where better for a not-of-this-earthling to hide in plain view?

And so in a greasy spoon, I met up with Kvob-Blorq (an 11-dimensional hyperbeing from the Thropple star system). K-B for short.

“Embezzle the ferrets at glughouse,” he began in greeting. “Fondue nay truncheon..oafish!”

I must admit to being somewhat taken aback by this. “Erm, hello,” I offered meekly. “All right?”

“Sorry,” he resumed, indicating a small metallic device clamped to his green throat. “It takes a while for the translator to adjust and convert into Earth-tongue. English, isn’t it? The language you use?”

“More or less,” I replied, thinking how my editor might have something to say about my usage of the language of Shakespeare, Milton, Dickens and Stormzy.

K-B grinned an alien grin; a smile far too indescribable to be described here, which is a shame given that this is a writing assignment. Ahem.

Anyway, over a cup of overpriced coffee with twigs, essence of Marmite and lord knows what else they put in it to justify the bank-account-curdling price, I quizzed the otherworlder about allegations of abduction and experiments on humans aboard spaceships.

“Oh, that’s all cobblers,” he snorted. “What they see as being probed is just a form of greeting in our culture.”

Hmm. And what about cattle mutilation, then?  Loads of farmers in the USA claim that aliens slice up their cows of an evening. K-B rolled three eyes, and squinted with the other two.  “Puh-leeze!” he tutted. “I mean, yes my boy Glumboe-Woopiz gave an ostrich a burn once, and I’ve given several wasps a funny look, but cattle mutilation? Honestly!”

Then I rolled out the big guns; the sort of question that wins obscure hacks Pulitzer prizes. “If you’re really an advanced species,” I began, “then why don’t you share your superior technology with us humans?”

Yet far from crumbling at this devastating line of questioning, K-B merely sighed, shook his head and looked pityingly at me.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He said. “Earth is full of lunatics; some of the worst ones are allowed to have guns, and even the best of your societies allows poverty, homelessness, inequality and even James Corden to proliferate. It would be irresponsible of any civilised race to allow you out into the universe, now wouldn’t it?”

He had a point, damn him! But was I to allow the worst of humanity to howl down the best of us?  What about music, art, football? Comedy, love, kindness?
“Ah, yes,” he agreed. “But what about Putin, Trump, and that fascist woman who is now Italy’s leader?”

You can’t argue with such logic. For every Leonardo Da Vinci I proposed in defence of humanity, he countered with a Windrush scandal or Love Island; for every Pele, Nina Simone or Jimi Hendrix I lauded, he reminded me that my species had produced Hitler, Piers Morgan and semolina pudding (yuck!).

Like any disgraceful hack, I let him pick up the tab. As we rose to leave, I – and humanity – was beaten; perhaps never to join the ranks of civilised species in the celestial chum-ocracy of the cosmos. War, pollution, famine, climate catastrophe. And yet more austerity to come. That’s the way of humanity, sadly. Bearing all that in mind, I said: “One final question: Can I come with you?”

He laughed like a drain of course. Maybe one day, the twinkle in some of his eyes seemed to suggest, the human race would have evolved and matured enough to allow it to be considered to join in with the civilized species, but not today.

“Time I was going,” K-B smiled. “I’ve got wasps to give funny looks to in the West Country!”

And off he went. Still, at least Christmas was coming. And New Year. Maybe we can improve things on this planet after all, before we start ruining other worlds. Maybe...

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October – November 2024 : Change

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