Rip the Van me Winkle!

Yes, nonsense, rubbish, worse than slimy Big Mac packaging and that’s just my mangled headline up there, but, tell me,  who would really want to sleep for a hundred years?

Well, maybe…  if there was school for a hundred years and not a day off but other than that, absolutely other than that, no. No, Sir! Not me. That gap between my last post and this one… an illusion. There, that’s sorted.

So, this is it, what would you do if you were just about in charge of everything and an alien turns up, uninvited, on a space station, one of those floating rooms up there somewhere where the crew all come from different countries, so,it’s not like there is a lot of chat. Anyhow,  in comes this perfectly nice somebody from some other corner of the great black and wide yonder.

What are your instructions?

Just wondering.