X-Files is fiction after all?

granny

Either 10-kilos of grade-A alien aphrodisiac, or humanity's Best Defence against alien invaders. Exactly like Milla Jovovich.

Being a chocolate-carrying Diabetic, I am first on the mailing list when the doctor wants to invite everyone for a ‘flu jab.

I used to be of the opinion that it was good for me to get ‘flu every so often, in order to build up my immune system, get a week in bed, blah blah blah. This was until one year when I came down with an absolute stinker of a case, at exactly the same time as a publisher deadline at work. I spent a week at my computer, hallucinating and sobbing into my keyboard, and probably did the equivalent of an hour or so’s work when healthy. At that moment, I vowed (to the floating pink kittens only I could see) that in future years, I’d always have the jab.

This was about five years ago, and thus far it always seems to have worked.

The doctor arranges to do everyone who wants the ‘flu jab on a Saturday morning. We all arrive at 8am, and are herded in like Sheeple into the surgery. There, we are processed on a production line by the rather scary practice staff … name, jumper off, needle, stop screaming you big baby, jumper on, and out again.

As I stand in the queue, I note with interest that I am the only person present under the age of about … 150. It’s like I’ve taken a wrong turning and finished up in the Post Office. Or on the film-set of a Cocoon remake.

My mind wanders (due to my teensy ADD problem) and I am reminded of an old X-Files plotline.

Remember X-Files? At the time it was considered cool and edgy, full of paranoia, and sexual tension between David Duchovnyovynov and whatsherface. Well, I caught an old episode of it on TV last week, and well … it hasn’t aged well. If you missed the recent movie (with Billy Connolly playing a Paedo) then my advice is not to to worry too much. As a viewing public, I think we’ve all moved on, and whoever it is who keeps trying to milk the X-Files cow would do better to send it to the abattoir for dogmeat. But I digress.

The plotline I am reminded of involved ‘flu inoculations in America actually being a covert operation to uniquely tag and catalogue everyone in the US in preparation for the forthcoming alien invasion. Yes, you read that right.

As I stand in the queue, passing the time eavesdropping on everyone’s conversation, I wonder at the intelligence of any alien race that would choose to invade in this manner.

My reasoning goes like this: what kind of people are normally first in line for ‘flu jabs? Well, looking at Today’s Lucky Winners, the alien database is going to be filled with geriatrics, moaners, whingers, people with foot problems, people who feel that there are too many young people about these days, Diabetics, hypochondriacs, racists, the mentally infirm (including one chap who believes the aliens are talking to him right now), spongers, people who smell of wee, people who deal in the class-A drug that is Werther’s Originals (warning: video may cause intense nausea), and the entire cast of “Last Of The Summer Wine”.

There are a number of theories to explain this alien reasoning, as postulated by leading theorists in this field (me and one of the guys at work). The two we’ll be bringing before the United Nations / UNIT Select Committee next Tuesday will be:

  1. Martians consider old people to be a rare delicacy. Like prunes. Or perhaps ground-up octogenarian is an alien aphrodisiac. They’ll turn up, “harvest” a few (possibly from the queues at B&Q on pensioner-Thursday) and go.
  2. Old people are actually our last, best hope against alien enslavement. They prove a threat known only to ET, and so must be eliminated first.

If it turns out to be point one: well, I’m struggling to think of how we should prepare. Perhaps we could designate an area for UFO parking near local Garden Centres, but that’s about it.

Which leaves us with point two. I am at a loss to know exactly how Old People will defend us against alien invasion; I can only assume that Sterident Tablets are poisonous to Martians. Nevertheless, the fact remains that even if I don’t see how they’re a threat, the aliens feel otherwise. Which means that when the saucers enter our atmosphere and choose strategic points to blow up, it won’t be the Whitehouse or Downing Street … it’ll be Aldi, Gala Bingo HQ, all of Eastbourne, and most of Florida. I’d avoid those areas, if I were you.

Or, of course, it’s possible that X-Files is just a pile of poo. Discuss.

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posted in Diary, Ramblings by Oddbloke

 
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