Message V [Tidings of Little Comfort, But Some Joy]

To: Zoroaster

From: Balti_Malky_Kaspy@twatter.com and @BMK@FormerObservatoryMission*

sent via ╜╝┼╡╢╤╕╦╧╘ .

Subject: Former Observatory Mission to Planet #3 Local Interstellar Cloud, Local Bubble, Orion-Cygnus Arm, Milky Way. A Long time in Politics.

Hail, Zoroaster the Mighty and Wise Leader of the Free Universe. [Hereinafter MAWLOTFU]

It is fitting that I begin with an advisement that we shall continue to use the appellation above in its abbreviated format, as the first item of news we bring you concerns one of the five pretenders to the title. The one mentioned in our last communication has been banished to limbo, or at least lucrative after-dinner speaking engagements. Yes, the prime minister of Britishland, whom we suspected of being a further offspring of Donald Fruujon of Washing Town fame, has been deposed. As has one of his successors. We did consider that she might indeed be another Fruujon offspring, too – we know how incontinent they are in such matters, despite the codicils to the appropriate act voted into law in the Intergalactic Court of Beings Rights, of which we reminded you, Oh MAWLOTFU, in our previous communication. But no, she was merely quite mad, even by the standards of the City of Westmonster, about which we wrote in our previous missive, too.

I feel I should explain that I have drafted and sent this message via two different channels to the relay station satellite on the edge of this galaxy, even so it may be subject to the usual lag and, therefore, may even take as long as the the people of Britishland’s seasonal greetings cards will take to be delivered this year. Yes, quite incredibly, they send each other cards to celebrate the astral event which alerted us to their presence for the first time, over two thousand of their years ago. Perhaps, they will arrive by the festival which either commemorates his death or celebrates his resurrection. It seems they find it difficult to decide which.

Our sighting of the original stellar event over five years ago, seems to have been nothing more than that. Although the past five years – this last in particular – have been filled with momentous events, most have been singularly catastrophic and we may be forced to rethink our original theory. That is, we now believe that stellar events throughout the cosmos have no real influence on nearby planets and their inhabitants’ behaviour at all. Save, of course, for the odd supernova.

Both Baltachior and I remain concerned about the technician Malkar’s behaviour. In addition to wearing the strange headgear formed from some material that the Earthlings in Washingtown and Westmonster – although at different times of the year – wrap around a rather large and not especially tasty flightless bird in order to incinerate it, he has begun glueing himself to the surfaces of the somewhat primitive routes used by the equally primitive modes of transportation in the City of Westmonster. We feel he may have misinterpreted the purpose of this as many younger earthlings remove his placard and tear it to pieces. I believe they object to some of the slogans thereon, one of which is “Just Stop Oli London”, which has an image of a rather strange looking young man beneath it.

Furthermore, he has become still more attached to his Eye Phone 6 and so I have been forced to purchase something called a Tablet, which Baltachior informs me in former times referred to the medium by which some deity imparted his guidance to some earthlings. He also says that those in Scotlandshire use the term to refer to a frighteningly sweet foodstuff, which accounts for the state of most of these North Britishers’ teeth. On the subject of teeth, we have noticed a change in those of the inhabitants of Englandshire, many of whom now have the alarmingly luminous ones becoming more common in the United State of Americans, too. I said to Balti (do excuse this shortening, but we had to do it for the Twatter address and I find it saves time on the tablet) “perhaps it is a change in their diet”. He used an expletive in very common usage and said he doubted that very much indeed. I suppose the metallic-paper-wrapped bird and the things they eat with it would account for that. I have eaten the sprout from Brussels and can say that if it truly had come from Belgium, one of the very great upheavals on these Islands would have been more understandable.

Which brings me to what Malkar calls the Sunlit Uplands. Be assured we are still in the City of Westmonster, which, like most of London Town – as noted in previous communications, London is a town which contains two cities, The City and The City of Westmonster – barely has anything higher than a hillock, none of which are called Muswell or Richmond. I have come to the conclusion that the Sunlit Uplands is a metaphor, but for what, I am unsure. Again, the bizarre concept of nationhood and its inevitable but quite annoying corollary, nationalism, have been responsible for a huge change in our circumstances.

We do our best to fit in. I can say that our language competence is near native. Moreover Malky speaks English, Text-Speak and something which seems related to English but involves the insertion of superfluous syllables and the omission of essential ones. For example, he said to me recently, and I quote, “There is lots of pea paw strug gull in wif noo languh-widge bein bought in”. I’m afraid I can offer no translation, but Malkar’s interaction with the Earthlings of Notting Hill (another one!) and Shoreditch is a joy to behold.

Which brings us to the true purpose of this final – yes, Oh MAWLOTFU, final – transmission from the Former Observatory Mission to Planet #3 Local Interstellar Cloud, Local Bubble, Orion-Cygnus Arm, Milky Way. We have decided, not without misgivings, to make our home here on Planet #3. There is much to do. In many ways, Planet #3 seems to be in a worse situation than when we arrived. The Fruujon has been banished from Washing Town, yes, but Volodomir and Vladimir in the east are fighting over whose name has the correct spelling, as far as we can gather. This is, admittedly, Malky’s interpretation and so may be up for debate. Earthlings in Britishland are freezing in their homes, due to this conflict. So we are reliably informed by the Fooling Elite in Westmonster, at least. However, Malky has found something on the interweb which says that some men called Shell and Beepy paid them to do so. I worry that this might actually be true. Nevertheless, in the extreme unlikelihood that it is, we intend to stay. At least, until we can find someone to trust with the secret of Nuclear Fusion.

That may be some time.

Best Regards Oh MAWLOTFU

Balti, Malki & Kaspy. (Formerly known as Baltachior, Malkar and Kaspazar).

Post Scriptum Please recall the Intergalactic Battle Group, we three are convinced that the inhabitants of Planet #3 are a danger only to themselves. 

[Go here for the beginning]