A UFO flits into existence,
Flips off its lights, hovers.
‘Hmmm’, go the Aliens.
‘Roger, Over and Out,’ goes the pilot of the scrambled jet.
The UFO pauses for a moment.
‘Cotact, contact!’ screams the pilot as – humorously – the Aliens switch on the canteen lights,
And one of them spins the disco ball.
‘Am in pursuit!’
The Aliens jump a few milles ahead and wait.
‘Bearing 120 degrees, range 3 miles, speed 1000 knots!’
One of the Alien sits down to watch a Vid-V,
And the magnetic field over half a continent shakes.
‘Have lost contact, instrumentation going haywire!’ screams the pilot.
Listening in, the Aliens look at each other and chortle,
One of them plugs in the toaster,
The lights in ten major cities dim.
‘Visibility zero, no instrumentation, repeat – no instrumentation!’
A female Alien mocking presents a tentacle-drier to the Captain.
‘Should I?’ the Captain thinks, and the other Aliens nod.
‘Go ahead’, they think back.
The Captain turns on the tentacle-drier.
Several volcanoes explode,
All the sat-nav systems in the world go haywire,
A satellite fires the wrong directional rockets and heads off into the sun.
‘Contact, I have contact!’
‘Fire at will!’
A puny missile streaks towards where the UFO was and the Aliens howl with laughter.
Wiping away his tears, the Captain looks at his watch –
Dull, just dull, he thinks, and the others agree,
‘Better press on.’
As they leave, the Aliens casually throw some trinkets onto the nearest country –
A mini transporter, inter-species translators, a bunch of platinum rings.
‘Red Bogy destroyed, Red Bogy destroyed!’ yells the pilot triumphantly as the UFO zaps into a multi-dimension.
Days later the Earth begins to return to normal,
The pilot is feted as a hero,
The platinum rings are melted down,
And the Aliens stop for a cuppa on their routine journey to the centre of the galaxy.