Warning, OUTRAGEOUS is a series of filth, swearing, insanity and gross images. The easily offended (and not so easily) and anyone under about 35 should stop reading right now!
Is there intelligent life on other planets? The age-old question that has burned in the mind of man since he first became aware of his place in an infinite universe. To some, this is purely a matter of scientific interest, to others it is a theological question with possible far-reaching repercussions for every religion in the world. Except for the Moonies, Scientology and Islam, which are, of course, all scary cults followed by brainwashed pudding-heads and therefore don’t count. I’m talking about proper religions like X-Factor worship and the idolization of empty-headed women with huge rubberised tits.
With several billion stars in our galaxy alone, however, all of which may or may not be orbited by any number of planets, I believe the question over the existence of other intelligences has only one reasonable answer. Of course there fucking is, twat.
In a universe of infinite size and possibility, one in which billions of stars came into existence and subsequently burned out long before the birth of our own sun, the existence of sentient life other than man (some of us, anyway) must surely be a given.
The universe is so vast – that being what “infinite” means for the educationally sub-normal among you (yes, including you madam) – that wherever you happen to be in it, that place will always be the exact middle. Whether you are at work being bullied, in your bedroom playing with yourself, or down the local park hanging about near the swings, it doesn’t matter, you are in the middle and so am I, even if we are in different places. I know that fact is hard to comprehend, particularly if you’re looking for the exit or the toilets, but that’s just how things are. Live with it.
Assuming the existence of other life to be the case – and I see no logical argument to indicate otherwise – the question I would most like answered about our far-distant, more technologically advanced cousins, is would they cut the mustard on the popular, long-running Channel 4 quiz programme Countdown? If not, the toad-faced freakoids can’t be as bright as they think they are. Just because they have faster-than-light interstellar travel, anti-gravity boots and death rays, that cuts no ice with me if they can’t crack the Countdown Conundrum. They’d probably be better off on All Star Family Fortunes, in fact, where the toe-curlingly thick celebrity guests would make them look good.
Then again, I don’t suppose our not-quite-as-smart-as-they-thought-they-were neighbours, could look any more alien than the usual gaudy sweater-wearing, gormless contestants on Countdown, most of whom suffer from raging athlete’s foot and terminal dullness, who gorge themselves on raw liver scooped hot and bleeding from the dying carcasses of simpletons mown down by speeding delivery vans, full of minced beef and onion pies, driven by drunken piemen. Or so I’m told by the voices. Not unless their out-of-this-world sprogs are whelped by sticking their hideous, putrescent, tapioca injectors up Squiddly Diddly’s star-shaped rectum, thereby impregnating his bulbous, skull-less bonce with several million mewling space babies.
Doo doo. Doo doo. Doo doo doo doo. Booo!
Next lecture, black holes and why calling them black holes isn’t racist.