Mum: There you are, Daffydtron. What are you doing here? I thought you were out to the pub.

Mother, if you must know, I can't go there anymore.

Why not?

They don't allow gays in the tavern, and I'm a gay.

But isn't Myfanwytron also a gay?

Mother! Only men can be gays—Myfanwytron is just confused and resorts to other women as a disgusting and perverted way to calm her devious sexual urges. It's repulsive, if you ask me. And I should know—I'm a gay!

All right, Daffydtron, only just help me with the humans. I think some of them are spoiling, already.

You know I can't lift bags of humans—it strains too much. I may lose my boyish good looks if I put on too much muscle. Anyway, I'm still working on my poem: It's called Ode To Being A Very Gay Martian. I shall read some of it to you, though I doubt you could appreciate the complex workings of the gay mind, being a "normal" such as you are. However, maybe even you could learn something from people like us, so for your sake and mine, I shall try to educate you:

Oh, Daffydtron! Why don't you just go out, an….

Ahem… please… "Ode To Being A Very Gay Martian, by Daffydtron Thomas.. tron"

"Though it may be sinful and wrong, I am not the Devil, but a Martian.

A man passes me in the street—my tentacles swell.

I only want his sedrelopogous (an alien penis) up my bum.

That's right—I'm a gay, get over it! I'm a bum-boy, a squidgee (another slang word for penis) licker, a fag-magnet, a screaming silly spooge-sucker, a boy-bopper, a…"

Daffyd Thomas!

…You forgot the tron at the end…

Forget your silly poems and try and think of your future for one moment. You need a job, and we do need the extra money, so I've been looking around for you. See here: 

What is it, mother? You know I would not be allowed to perform any physical labor of any kind—I am far too delicate. See this tentacle? It would surely tear if I were forced into bearing any load that a raging hetero-boss would see fit to torture me with.

Now, don't be daft, Daffyd! You need a job. Look here: Isn't it exciting? It says in the newspaper that the alien army needs a few good men for their fighting machines. All you would have to do is walk around in these fully-protected metal shells and blast away at anything that moves. Wouldn't that be fun?

That would be on Earth, then?

Yes, of course! (Far away from here, at least.)

No, no, I couldn't possibly.

Why not? Don't tell me it's because you're a gay? I think you are just being lazy, to tell the truth. Listen to me, Daffyd!

Mother--It may shock you to realize that the army doesn't accept gays, and anyway, how would it look if I joined the army, flew to Earth and then met some male humans on the street and had to say, "Oh, well normally I would have to destroy you with my death ray, but you see, I am a gay and I might accidentally slip my appendages into your bums by mistake." How would that look to my commander? He would discharge me right then and send me back here. No, it would be much better if I just stayed here in this house, all alone… the only gay martian in the village.

Daffyd! You are just being ridiculous!      

Oh, my own mother—a homophobe! I knew you were cruel, but I never guessed in a million years that you would plot to get rid of me, to send me to another planet and to my certain death at the hands of perverted heterosexual demons in human form, and just because I enjoy sedrelopogouses up my bum… Goodbye, mother!

*slams the door behind him*

Mum: Well, I did try…

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S: Hello, sunshine!

PM: Oh, hello Sebastian.

S: You've been in here all day—aren't you hungry? I heard about this posh restaurant run by blind people where it's totally dark and you don't know what you're eating until you taste it. Come on, let's go there together. Please?

PM: Sebastian, I am rather busy with the whole aliens-taking-over-Britain-thing. Can't you go with one of your friends?

S: Aw, come on, Prime Minister!

PM: Sebastian, I can't right now—okay? Now please, I must…

S: Shh, shh, shh… Don't say another word. We'll just have our own dine in, instead. (Pulls the curtains closed and turns off the lights)

PM: I can't see, Sebastian. What are you doing? There's no time to play around like this.

S: Aren't you the least bit hungry? (A zipping sound is heard and a scrabbling up on the desk. A wet smack and an elongated something traces its way around the PM's face slowly)

S: Now isn't this nice, Prime Minister? Oh, it seems you are playing with your food… Aren't you going to eat it?

PM: Sebasthien… whud are you boing? (Gasps) Stop it! This is serious! We must get to work on stopping the martians!

S: Martians, smartians… I've seen 'em. Not impressive--nothing but tentacles… I don't really fancy that sort of thing, anyway. Um, unless you do, I mean?

(Suddenly the door opens and the PM's wife turns on the lights and is taken aback)

Wife: What in the name of Grace are you doing?!

S: Wha' are you looking at? If you satisfied him in bed, he wouldn't have to turn to me, instead… bitch! (Zips up and walks out in a huff, glaring at her)

(Both look very surprised)

(Sebastian puts his head back around the door)

S:  So you won't actually tell anyone about this, will you?

Wife: Get out!!

S: Right… (Looks at PM and whispers across the room) …call me!

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(Carol Beers puts up a sign in the travel office window, stating: Escape the Martians by hiding underground—see inside for pricing options)

(Two customers, a man and a woman, hurry in)

Man: Please, we need to escape Britain—it's under attack by the Martians…

Carol: Thought the martians were everywhere… Sue? Could you not bring me some more coffee?

Woman: Yes, but if we leave here, we'll be safe.

(Carol looks confused in a bored way, then types while looking at the screen)

Carol: Computer says no…

Man: But, look—There must be something. You must help us!

(Customers wait while Carol stares directly at them. Large crashing noises are heard outside as the martian invaders destroy the village with their death rays and crushing, metallic feet)

(Carol gets up and goes into the other room. A few minutes later she comes back with a cup.)

Woman: I thought you didn't want coffee?

Carol: No… not from Sue.

(Customers look confused and anxious and somewhat annoyed)

Man: Look, you must save us… and yourself! If you have no way for us to escape, at least let's start out on foot. There may still be a chance if we leave right now!

(Carol only stares at them as she slowly sips coffee, then puts it down)

Carol: That was vile... Fine… I'll try again.

(Carol starts typing)

Well, it looks like there's a warship called the Thunderchild that's leaving in just a few minutes. Would that do?

Man: That sounds unusual. Couldn't we just take the ferry, instead?

(Carol runs her finger across the keyboard in a bored manner)

Carol: Computer says no…

Woman: Of course we will take the warship, then.

Carol: Right, here are your tickets. Just remember to jump as hard as you can once you reach the pier.

Both customers: Oh, yes, thank you so much!

(Carol coughs once violently in their faces, then the customers leave)

Carol: Sue? Could you not bring me that packet of biscuits? Sue?

(Suddenly the roof collapses under the weight of a giant metallic foot and Carol is crushed and a large, metallic, amplified cough is heard from the beast)

(From inside the martian craft, Daffyd is smiling. "You know, this is quite fun, actually.")

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Welcome, Fatfighters, to our 13^th class together! Now, I know the invasion is going well here on Earth, and some of us (not me, of course) have been binging a little too much on all those helpless little humans, haven't we? Yes, so it's important we all watch what we eat, and I'm here to help. Some of us (points to herself) are just made to lead, because our wills are just a little bit stronger than yours, which is obvious, because just look at you.

(Everyone sits quietly)

Pat-tron, you're the fattest one here (and the smelliest, whoo!)—please come up and we'll try an experiment, okay? You need help, or?

(Pat gets up and comes to the front of the classroom)

Made it, did we? God, you're fat… Okay: I am pleased to announce that we've got a neeeuuw Fatfighters product on the market, and you are going to be privileged to be the first to try it! It's called Red Weed Humans, or Rewumans, for short. Personally, I like to call them tasty. Now Pat, we're just going to put a few blindfolds on you and you will try to guess which is which—a real human versus a fake one, okay? Won't that be nice?

Yes, I'd like that.

Thought you might (fat cow). Now, I know all of us love humans. Forget injecting their blood; I'd rather just eat them whole. Don't you agree? I, myself, love them. I love humans! I LOVE 'em, can't get enough of 'em, love 'em, got to get those humans—love 'em, need 'em, want 'em in me, Yes… HUMANS! Huh? Yeah? Come on, you know you want 'em, too—huh? God, I love 'em, oooohhh: HUMANS!!

(Everyone looks embarrassed and unsure of her, and all want to leave)

Now, Pat, here we go: first, try this one…

(Pat bites into a real human) Oh, nice, yes.

Yeah? Now try this one… (Gives her another real human)

Oh, this is nice—I can really feel the bones crunch… I really can't tell the difference.

See? Fatfighters?  They're indistinguishable from the real thing, aren't they?

Yes, it's just like the real thing.

You know, I tricked you. They were both real humans. I just don't like you. Now, spit it out.

I can't, I've just eaten them.

Pat? You obviously want to be fat, don't you? You want to burden the rest of us, making us pay for your unhealthy eating habits, isn't that true? You make me sick, really. Now, get back into your chair, if you can. Can someone help her?

I can make it. (Slowly and with tears in her eyes, she rises and gets back into her chair)

God, look at that—it's just like Jabba the penguin…

Man: You've just made my wife cry!

Really? I thought her body couldn't hold any more and she was leaking… Oh, just kidding, dear, I'm only here to help you--you know that, don't you?

(Pat dabs at her eyes and nods, not looking at Marjorie)

Good. So, class—what have we learned? We have learned that you must have self-control when you eat, otherwise you may end up just like Pat, here, or that smelly old one in the back. What's your name? Ah, nevermind. Really, you owe me for all the room-freshener I have to spray in here every night when you all leave—we'll talk about that after class, okay?

So, who can tell me how many calories humans have? Anyone? No? Anyone? No? Anyone?

Man: They all vary.

Oh, listen to Mr. Know-It-All, here! How do you figure that, huh? You have a degree in physiology, do you? Well, just so you know, they all vary. You, the foreign one—please sit. What is that all over her, anyway?

Woman: It's her clothes!

Oh come on, really? I guess what do you expect when her people drink out of the toilet and fist themselves for laughs, isn't that right? At least that's what I've heard…

Foreign woman: Please do not make fun of my world!

I'm sorry, what was that, dear?

Please do not make fun of my world!

Come again?

Please do not make fun of my world!

What was that?

Please do not make fun of my world!

Come again?

Man: She said, "Please don't make fun of her world!"

All right, all right—no need to make a fuss! It's no wonder they are always fighting each other on Currygon 3—it must be genetic. It's a good thing our side is so superior and can put you lot down any day of the week, eh? I mean, look at her, all worked up over nothing.

Please do not insult me!

Oh, she's babbling again. (Slowly and loudly into her ear): I like you too, dear, now sit down! (pushes her into her seat) Oh, what a stench… Do you foreigners always smell like curry? I don't know what your men think of you, but my guess is they've got so many layers of musk on, their oversize smelling appendages are permanently damaged, anyway.

(Everyone looks at her evilly)

Now, class, let's change the subject: I'd like to invite a Neeeeuuuuww member to our Fatfighters group! Andtron Pipkin! (Everyone claps as Andy is rolled in by Lou)

Andy: I want to go home.

Lou: Now, Andy, I told you that as long as we're stuck here on Earth, we might as well get you slimmed down. You've gained a lot of weight just sitting in the spaceship all day and night, eating Monster Munch and Whippies.

I want me Monster Munch.

Andy, you'll have to listen to Marjorie from now on. She'll be helping you, all right? She's our friend and she's here to help you lose some weight, okay? We don't want you having a heart attack, do we? Hello. (smiles at Marjorie, who smiles back)

Don't like her.

Now, Andy—be nice. I'm just going to visit the little martian's room, and I'll pop right back, all right?

Don't go… (Andy reaches out, but Lou leaves)

Hello, Andy, I'm Marjorie and this is our class, such as it is. (Ah, a fat feeb—what a surprise… I'm running a hospital and a mental ward, both, it seems…)

(Andy just sits glumly in his wheelchair, looking downward at the floor)

Andy, would you be able to stand on these scales if we helped you?

(Andy doesn't answer)

Right, a little help, here?

Man: You don't need to put him on the scales like that! We can all tell if someone's lost enough weight, can't we? All you need to do is look at us…

Well, if you want to just sit there and not help, then I will have to do this, myself! You are all worthless, you know that? Fat and worthless… Come on, Andy—let go of the wheelchair!

(Andy grips his wheelchair with the locks on, not letting go)

Marjorie: Come… on!

(Marjorie pulls and pulls, but Andy is too heavy)

Right! Fine! If you feebs don't have enough sense to know what's good for you, then Screeeeeuuuuw Yeauuuuuw! Your life is over anyway, you know that? I don't know why I even bother with you lot. You're just going to sit in front of the telly and all die from clots in your blood, I can tell…

(Andy all of a sudden gets out of the wheelchair and puts it on its side, then lies down on the floor just as Lou walks back in the room)

Lou: Andy! Are you all right?! What happened?

Andy: She pushed me.

(Marjorie just stands there, tongue-tied and completely taken by surprise)

Lou: Is this true?

(Everyone in the room thinks for a second, then they all nod in unison)

Lou: You filthy whore! How dare you harm the handicapped!

(Lou and Marjorie stand and argue together continuously, while the rest of the class look on, eventually becoming bored of it)

Man: Right, who's for ice cream?

(Everyone walks out of the room and into the ice cream shop across the street, with Andy following on foot, while Lou and Marjorie keep arguing, not paying attention.)

The end. :)