UFOs: The truth is oot there as aliens frolic about in fancy spaceships, by Rab McNeil

But, this week, the subject filled the public prints, with a video appearing to show a UFO buzzing a US navy ship; former US president Barack Obama saying he’d seen footage that was difficult to explain; Fox News television host Tucker Carlson saying the Defense Department was ignoring the threat while focusing on woke inclusion initiatives; and a former US spy chief saying the danger to humankind had to be taken “seriously”.

Seriously? Many people secretly hope that the aliens will save us from ourselves. But, if so, what have they been doing all this time? What’s the point of buzzing aboot, being right enigmatic and becoming, frankly, a bit irritating? Aliens: either micturate or get off the pot.

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If they were that advanced, why do they need to fly aboot here, looking at military bases? Surely, they could just do that remotely? Or send robots, as we’re about to do with yonder Mars? Of course, maybe it is robots in the craft.

However, people who’ve been abducted and probed identify two sentient types: “Greys”, who are malign and have these big oval eyes often used in illustrations; and “Nordics”, tall, blond types trying to save us from the Greys … and ourselves. I don’t meant to sound judgmental, but this is all tripe. Or it had better be.

I don’t like the sound of those Greys. And that’s probably what we’ll get: nasty predators who practise vivisection on lesser species, something Earthlings could never contemplate doing.

And what about the spaceships? Footage, which is always rubbish, appears to show the craft moving at incredible speed, looping the loop, going backwards, turning somersaults and all sorts.

However, it’s important to remember that UFO means “unidentified flying object”. It’s not UFOFOS: unidentified flying object from ooter space. Could be anything. The Russians, the Chinese, the cooncil. Something sinister at any rate.

The X-Files

Indeed, with that peculiar Earthling predilection for renaming everything, they now talk about “unidentified aerial phenomena” (UAPs). Well, that’s a big help.

As intimated exclusively above, all the footage of UFOs is poor. Everybody has a camera on their portable telephone now, and the internut abounds with clear pictures of all sorts of phenomena, except one. Correct: UFOs. The pictures are always grainy. I know they’re up yonder, in the sky. But, by the law of averages, among hundreds of these images or films being posted every year – some by people with actual cameras or video recorders – at least one should be fairly clear. Nope.

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In July, the US is due to release a hitherto secret report eagerly awaited by people with a propensity for wearing rainwear. However, what will it be? Correct: it will be rubbish. If there had been anything, President Obama might have said so. So might slack-mouthed Donald Trump, though he has hinted at it in his usual garbled manner. It could be that the secret service is keeping the facts even from the presidents. But I doubt it.

The interesting aspect to the new narrative is that the aliens are not our friends. But, if they wanted to destroy us, why wouldn’t they have done so by now? You say: “Maybe they’re waiting for us to do it oorselves, ken?”

Maybe. But maybe the aliens are having a laugh. Maybe Earth is where they come for entertainment, the way we watch bullfights or girls being burned alive in Game of Thrones.

Zorg: “Let’s go and see what the dumbo Earthlings are up to now.”

Yorg: “Yes, and we’ll fly aboot right funny. That always puts them in a tizzy.”

Jogging to death

TURNS out all you need to avoid premature death is a brisk seven-minute walk, presumably not followed by three pies, a couple of smokes and a small vat of whisky. Cambridge University researchers say the walk could be up and down the stairs. Excellent: you don’t even need to go out into the evil fresh air.

Reports about this latest study also cited older research that showed joggers and gym bunnies were as likely to die prematurely as couch potatoes. I saw many joggers in the city recently, and most looked comical. There’s an intensity there that doesn’t bode well.

As for my own efforts, I’ve enjoyed being back at the gym. During lockdown, I did weights at home (about 20 minutes a fortnight; no results), but the gym equipment used different muscles: I felt aches the next day, but you only get that the first time.

Unfortunately, the hotel room I recently stayed in had unforgiving lighting in the bathroom, and the flab and wrinkles thereby revealed led me to conclude that it’s all a waste of time. Never mind premature death, I’m suffering from mature life.

The moral of the tale

YOU wouldn’t think bookish people would steal, but some do. We assume that reading imparts morality, but it can also produce disillusionment, leading to crime.

That Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting is among the most stolen books suggests it’s being purloined by edgy people with no respect for the system. But I was discomfited to read that The Lord of the Rings was also frequently nicked. Tolkien’s tome is a morality tale. I can only think it’s being pinched by persons who couldn’t tell an elf from a halfling. Or perhaps evil Morgoth is stealing them to stop people reading of his servant Sauron’s defeat.

Irvine says he doesn’t mind folk stealing his book, as he still gets royalties because shops have to cover the cost. But, under the heading “Book him”, a Daily Star editorial thundered: “Beware, you still won’t get off Scot-free!”

Well, yes, he’ll still have to pay tax. The expression “Scot-free” has its origins in the Scandinavian word “skat”, meaning tax. It has nothing to do with Scots stravaiging the straths at leisure. If the Star’s leader-writers stole more books, they would know this.

For the birds

THERE are six birds for every person on the planet, according to Australian researchers. This is good news, depending on the type of bird: hawks and magpies – boo!

I am the Protector of Small Garden Birds. When I returned from my recent sojourn away, a robin danced about in front of the car as I parked up. Inside the garden, the cacophony of birdsong was music to my ears, unlike the industrial uproar of outdoor DIY toys bought at B&Q or Jewson by lesser species.

The world’s most common bird is the house sparrow. A little gang of these live in the bushes in front of the house. Next comes the starling, but we see few of these. The oddest bird round these parts is a crow. Crows’ “singing” is far from blissful, but this one fellow stands on a telegraph pole and babbles away to himself, almost emulating human speech.

He doesn’t fly with the flock much, though I think it’s protective of him. Were he human, he’d write magazine columns for a living, babbling away merrily with no one understanding what he was on about.

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