So, there I was, standing at Worplesdon Station, when the aliens landed. Now Worplesdon Station is somewhat out of the way, as I am sure you know, down a small, quiet road, about two miles from Woking. Perhaps I should not be so surprised, after all H.G. Wells Martians landed just outside Woking. However, Horsell Common is the other side of town. I had always assumed Worplesdon to be the quiet side.
Anyway, I was waiting for the twenty to nine on a particularly bleak morning, interest rates had just gone up a quarter point and England were now 3-0 down in the test series, when a... Yes, it was that series. Terrible shame I thought, dropping the Captain like that. They should have hung him off the Post Office Tower first in my opinion.
Hmm, what, oh of course. Well I was on the platform when a short individual approached me. What first struck me as odd was his lack of backpack. He had a heavy Australian accent, but did not look as if he had just hiked from Portsmouth on the back of a pig lorry. They do that a lot I am told. Australians. I think the heat gets to them. Anyway, this made me instantly suspicious. I was further alarmed when he made eye contact. He could have been French, other than the previously mentioned accent and a strong smell of linoleum.
He then approached me in a confident manner and showed his true colours, "Would you know where the toilet is please?" he loudly asked. Yes, I know, and there were ladies present! I hastily pointed with my newspaper and then gladly clambered onto the newly arrived train. No true human would ever discuss that topic in public, in such a manner. Well certainly never in England I thought.
So, there you have it, the day I met an alien. Hence, I have since moved to Aldershot, safe in the knowledge that they would never allow aliens in Hampshire. Ah, Hastings. Anyone care for a sandwich, I can recommend the salmon.
Copyright Brian "Munchkin" Milton 2000