This morning, the infamous sans culottes Norbert de Dee reveals the sexual needs of Anne Widdecombe, alien obsessions with the Eurovision Song Contest, and various other things that scurry up his drainpipe. Readers taken in by this nonsense are, I understand, 80% more likely to queue up all night for a Covid 19 vaccine. Allegedly.

My first encounter with alien beings came the day after my sixteenth conviction for Up Skirting. I was in bed, minding my own business when I fell into a deep sleep and I dreamed that two women were scurrying up my drainpipe.

My first thoughts were, ‘who comes scurrying up my drainpipe’. Then, in a state of panic and fully cognisant that the metal brackets that affixed my pipe to the brickwork were in a poor state of repair, I quickly leapt out of bed, opened the window and howled, ‘mind you don’t disturb my brackets that affix my drainpipe to my fifteenth floor apartment’.
Course, by then, mostly because I’d opened the window to wide, in popped Liz Hurley and Anne Widdecombe.

As they sat together on my bed throwing dice to see who got to have me first by throwing a double six, and moments after Anne screamed in delight, ‘ double six. He’s mine’, I suddenly with a certain amount of relief, awoke from my slumber to a bright white unearthly glow of light and a voice ringing out in my head, ‘Nobby. We’ve travelled hundreds of light years to speak to you. Pop your pants on and pop outside’.

Now, there’s a few of you out there who’ll be muttering, ‘What a load of bollocks. We don’t believe it. Well, I’d say, until such times as you’d been visited or abducted by bloody aliens and had your mind dominated by a superior galactic intelligence, you’d be wise to keep your views to yourself and shut bloody up.

Anyways, seeing as I was now under their complete control and subject to their total domination, I popped on my pants, levitated downstairs, drifted outside and floated upwards toward the giant metallic orb that was hovering above me bloody house. It had windows and curtains and behind each window I could see it’s occupants waving madly at me.

As I rose above the roof of my home toward the orb a myriad of terrifying thoughts raced through my mind. Am I to be abducted? Am I to become subjected to dreadfully painful experiments or worse to be sexually violated by one or several thousand of their number to create a hybrid species and disappear down some galactic worm hole never again to fish for barbel?

And then, just as the orb front door opened to allow my entry, I was suddenly calmed when one of their number, probably one of those waving behind the curtains and cognisant that I’d soiled my pants and was frightened to death, telepathically told me, ‘do not be affeared Nobby. Nobody is going to violate you. Our species have no reproductive organs’.

Course, from there on, happy that I was not going to be the recipient of excessive romance by God Knows how many alien beings, I entered the extraterrestrial spacecraft.

There were hundreds of the little fuckers. Long skinny legs, tiny arms, small hands with fingers, a very long neck and a huge perfectly round head that had two eyes, no ears and no mouth which did make me wonder how they took on any nourishment.
Anyways, to further ensure my comfort and well being and stop me screaming, ‘ let me go you little bastards’, one of these little beings, equipped with a hyperdermic needle injected me with what we on the good earth understand to be Rohypnol the Date Rape Drug.

They tethered me to a gurney and watched as my fat facial expressions changed to someone who was in love with all, would pretty much agree to do anything to and with anything, a smile that implied I had severe learning difficulties and my eyes, both of them, rolled about back and forth like three cherries on a one armed bandit.

Twas then I learned of their mission. Through their telepathic method of communication I was told that for many decades their civilisation had been monitoring our technological progress and throughout this surveillance period they’d become increasingly interested in our popular culture. They loved our music and their favourite programme was the Eurovision Song Contest. In particular, their favourite song was that of Brotherhood Of Man, Save All Your Kisses For Me.
As I understood it, a solar wind storm within their galaxy had interrupted the chorus of Save All Your Kisses For Me and that left then wondering what the last couple of words were.
Like a heavenly choir within the orb these aliens began to sing in pitch perfect tones in joyous unison, ‘Save All Your Kisses For Me, Save All Your Kisses For Me, Bye Bye Baby Bye…..? In genuine earnest they wanted to know what the missing word was.

Course, when I told them I hadn’t got a bloody clue, not only did their leader become visibly angry with me, it all kicked off didn’t it. Amongst the plethora of insults aimed at me that included, ‘For Fucks Sake. We’ve Travelled Billions Of Miles And We’ve Only Managed To Abduct This Dull Twat’, for a moment I was convinced that they were going to beat the ever loving shit out of me and throw me out of their spacecraft.

But they didn’t. Clearly angry they wasted themselves the best part of one hundred light years popping across or over to see me, their higher intelligence and methodology of dealing with conflict, ensured that my life was spared and I was placed back in my bed to recover from my first encounter with aliens.

Sadly for me, once I’d slipped back into a deep sleep, Miss Widdecombe emerged from beneath my bed and subjected me to what the aliens were physically incapable of subjecting me to.

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