by Nick Gisburne
Of all the people, somehow it was me,
The first to meet a man from outer space.
I offered him a sausage, poured the tea,
And smiled at where there should have been a face.
His name was something simple: Charlie Two,
Which wasn’t very alien at all.
I wondered, so I asked him, if he knew
A simple way to wrap a rubber ball.
He didn’t, so if that could stump his brain
I knew the world was absolutely safe.
Two further questions: why is weather vain,
And will a new bikini always chafe?
He left in quite a hurry. To this day
I’ll always wonder why he went away.
