Far out, man!
As the photo above clearly demonstrates, UFOs do exist! I became a believer after a morning spent with my old friend Mr. Wacky Backy in Snookers (sic) Coffee Shop located down a side street off Strijpestraat in the suburbs of Eindhoven.
Wacky Baccy plus exercise is certainly one of life’s greatest pleasures, so after some idle chit chat with the boss (“I’ve had this coffee shop for 25 years and I’ve been stoned every day it’s been open”) I unlocked my bike - almost every Dutch railway station rents them out; ID and address required - and set off on one of those aimlessly fascinating journeys that life throws up.
Within five minutes I was cycling blissfully through a sodden park, whistling out of tune, dodging yapping dogs and their mounds of steaming shit, when this UFO came into sight. While I nearly fell off, it was taking off – no doubt having stocked up on Afghani Black. Having just stocked up on Afghani Black too, I felt just like that kid touching fingers with ET.
I’m not sure where the spaceship was going but it disappeared into the deep cloudy grey yonder pretty damned quick, vole, like shit off a shovel. Luckily for me, and science in general, I had my trusty little camera in my pocket and managed to get this snapshot of our alien friends’ mode of transport and therefore, with no news of any havoc and destruction left behind, we can conclude that they were agreeable extra-terrestrials. It’s just a shame we can’t see any green men with long ears peering out of the window, taking pictures of us humans, like the Japanese do when they go on holiday.
Later that evening, when he got back from work, I told my mate Dom about this event and he didn’t believe me, not even when I produced photographic evidence. Jeez, some people are so cynical!
“I bet you were in Casablanca Coffee Shop all morning,” was all he said, uncapping a bottle of Johnnie Walker.
“No. I was in Snookers.”
“Same thing,” he replied.
“No, it’s not,” I argued. “Have you ever seen a Moroccan playing snooker?”
“Good point,” he mumbled, kind of miserably, which I took to be jealousy because he hadn’t witnessed this phenomenon. Still, he enjoyed himself that night, slurping Scotch and carrying on down at the Drunken Turk pub.
Bon voyage!