The aliens live amongst us
“Aliens, mostly. Definitely the aliens. Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, lesbians. I wouldn’t be too sure about the Muslims, though I don’t object to them myself, you understand. You just can’t be too careful, can you? But you can’t say I’m not fair, because an American on the street would, well, you know. I just wouldn’t know what to say to them, passing the time of day and such. They would have a big car and insist on putting their letterbox on the lawn. Or a flag or something.
“People who listen to that loud rock ‘n’ roll music all day. Them too. Blang, blang, crash, doof, doof, doof. So aggressive. It can’t be good for them. Exotic pet owners - I mean owners of exotic pets, rather than people who are exotic and have, I don’t know, a little Cocker Spaniel or a tiny lapdog or one of them German breeds. That’d be fine, as long as they weren’t too exotic. Oh me! I laugh at my own, I do. So, no, I just don’t want to live next door to a zebra, that’s all.
Then there’s the … I really don’t like … erm, it’s such a nasty phrase, but Gwen calls them the kiddie-fiddlers. They put them on a quiet street just like this after they get out, you know, and they give them social workers and jobs driving minicabs. Mostly day runs, of course, taking pensioners to the luncheon club and the shops. So I wouldn’t like a kiddie-fiddler here either, but that’s only natural. That’s it, though. I can’t say I’d be minded against anyone else.
“Well, terrorists, of course. Obviously. That goes without saying. You’ve got to keep your eyes open these days. For the terrorists. We can’t give into our fear of them by changing our whole way of life - my mum called it the Blitz Spirit even though she lived out her days in a village in Dorset, but then she’d always go off on one about that Mister Hitler given half a chance. I told her that this was the modern world, that we had to forgive and forget. Dad drove an Audi, too.
“See, terrorists live in cells. That’s what it says on the news. I thought that was sort of funny. Cells! Should be in them, shouldn’t they? And these cells are on cul de sacs all over the country. A cul de sac like this. And the quiet people beavering away in their cells work at everyday jobs while planning their atrocities. That’s another reason I don’t take minicabs any more. It’s not just because of the kiddie-fiddlers, but the terrorists too. So I walk down to the corner every morning at 11, get what shopping I need, then come home and watch the street for any suspicious activity. I find it especially important around half past three when the school empties out, because that Quinn boy from number 27 drops litter on my borders when he’s showing off to his noisy friends. So I tap on the kitchen window and glare at them, mouthing the words. I don’t say them, because I don’t violate the Queen’s English. I just, you know, glare and pretend to shout. It’s safer.
“Gwen and I don’t really socialise. I sit here watching her side of the cul de sac; she sits at her window eating her Ritz crackers and watching mine, though she does get distracted. We call ourselves Neighbourhood Watch, though we never got the badges or the training or nothing. We’re quite futuristic though, you know. Because we don’t go for tea or things like that, we send these text messages. She bought us both little Nokia thingies, and so we update each other on events that way. Here’s one: ‘new family no 18 religious’. Gwen sent that yesterday. Hopefully she means Catholic or something, not Jehovah’s Witnesses. It’s been quiet here, I’m pleased to say, so my last message was three days ago: ‘poss terrorist cell no 14 not gone shopping yet’. I felt a bit foolish when they had it delivered, later that afternoon. Waitrose, so they’re quite posh.
“I don’t tell Gwen about the aliens. Not even her. Because that’s my real worry, that the aliens live amongst us. Even terrorists, you know - until they do the suicide bombings they’re quite normal. Just keep themselves to themselves. Minicabs and secret missions. But if aliens moved in and colonised the cul de sac, I would just feel uneasy. A terrorist cell - well, you could complain about their ball coming over into your garden or if they were making the street unsightly by leaving their car up on bricks for a couple of weeks, because they would want to put it right quickly, wouldn’t they? So as not to attract attention to themselves. Exactly. But aliens just wouldn’t have those customs. You wouldn’t know how they might react. It’s a worry, isn’t it? A real worry.”