by Andrew Hennessey

 The Ancient Kingdom of Fife has a takeaway service second to none.

In fact some nights you can see these businesses pick up and drop off as they go with their carry-outs from one house to the next.

Some like Santa Clause with a sled with no reindeer hover at rooftop height as Santa’s little helpers go either down the chimney or through the walls to collect boys and girls both big and small and bad and good.

It was strange to see those same houses round about the time of the nine O clock news in the dark early nights of the autumn.

Whole housing estates that should have been bustling hives of industry alive with kids playing outside and inside, switching on lights and switching off lights, or watching the brightly flickering televisions as they ran through the latest blockbuster or SKY digital classic, were pitch black.

Indeed there was an eerie stillness about some of these places.

You could travel a long way around these dark windowed estates north and south without ever being surprised by someone switching on a light.


Having personally seen a square UFO about the size of a big minibus hovering in the air over the local ‘abandoned’ military base at ten O clock at night in an almost cloudless sky, hanging low over the military communication dishes it really didn’t look good for mankind.

For over fifty minutes the eleven or so blue-white soul lights of these strange and bothersome beings went to and fro through what looked like a doorway in the little mini-bus or shuttle.

Obviously if these guys were playing football for Scotland there wasn’t going to be a problem outpacing the opposition.

There was just no substitute for high-energy team spirit.

It became obvious that in many different ways alien invasion definitely lowered the carbon footprint of the local community.

Selflessly saving the planet at night, no doubt conserving electricity, perhaps even parked up in their cupboards the benefits of being under the alien cosh did not, however, materialise.

Other things did though.

Despite being hounded down the road at night by blue-white lights zipping through the trees and meeting strange pedestrians that appeared to be woven out of cloud and light, there could have been nothing more strange than to see a small car sitting up in a tree as though it were resting there for the evening having had a long arduous flight across the Forth estuary.

This alleged road traffic incident also involved strange numberless off duty police who had obviously borrowed their vehicles from the next shift perhaps en route to a local takeaway.

One knew it was a wind up when one saw a local police officer wearing a Federation badge from Star Trek as part of his community relations allowance.

Down town there was also a take away restaurant called the Wok-in which no doubt had lots of business from the local deep underground military base.

Exactly what had taken possession of a whole Legion of people and had walked into their collective federated lives was hard to imagine.

In fact very little had been left to the human imagination it seems.

To get a clue, helping holograms of vehicles that change their shape and appearance were supplied, like the camper van that became a police minibus.

Realising that this stuff was both impersonating police officers and no doubt world leaders I could see my career as an X Files investigator coming to an untimely close.

The carry out service in Fife no doubt extended throughout the rest of Scotland as well.

I tried to filter this freaky stuff out because really I was just the little guy making his way through the hardships of downtown Scotland.

I was again getting some night air, not that far from my front door when I saw this low flying passenger airliner fly alarming low across the top of the local hill with its military dishes. It was no more than twenty feet above the dishes and dangerously low. I say I saw the Boeing 737 airbus because I never heard any engine noise whatsoever. The engines ought to have been deafening that low and close. Then as I watched it fly past I realised that it was lit underneath by the orange glow of the streetlights.

There were no landing lights, no front lights, and no taillights, there were no lights on in the clearly visible crew cabin and the portholes were also dark showing no lights at all.

It was L Ron Hubbard the Scientology guy that had said that DC10’s flew between the stars and it was getting obvious that maybe he was right about the strangeness of imitation human technology.

Hubbard was obviously in the know and that was decades ago.

It was clear to me that I wasn’t really cut out to be a UFO investigator when on a hilltop above Dunfermline in broad daylight a big silvery teardrop ship sails straight overhead low enough to chuck a can of Irn Bru at.

I could tell that the aliens were being clever when I saw or thought I saw rivets on the no doubt polished steel plates on the hull.

This ship though clearly wasn’t  ‘made in Scotland from girders’.


My field research on this underground base had suggested from an inside source that it was a lot bigger and less abandoned than had been suggested, although merely being an unlawful, cold war, radon-exuding nuclear tip and mouldy world war two arms dump wasn’t any good reason for ET’s to want to have anything to do with it.

The ET’s seemed to be having such a good time inventing totally unsustainable lifestyles and perpetuating them as an incredible hoax.

I realised that there wasn’t going to be any money in this deal at all.

In the UK and Scotland in particular this stuff is so covered up.


Feeling rather dejected, I was taking my constitutional and had managed to get beyond the sewage works without again being stopped or harassed by some phoney policeman with no epaulette numbers.

I sat down and took a rest in the Deep Sea World shelter and although it was a bright and beautiful afternoon, the little road was quiet and empty.

Next thing I saw a black saloon car go whisking by right to left, but I didn’t pay it any attention and a couple of seconds later the same car went past my vision left to right.

Wow I thought, that had to be the fastest three-point turn in human history.

Ok, then I thought, they want to play.

I said, lets see two red cars followed by two white cars.

Next thing, two red cars followed by two white cars.


This wasn’t fair I thought, these Aliens are really being cheeky.

There wasn’t going to be any money in this stuff.

Trains and boats and planes and cars were not necessarily trains and boats and planes and cars and things definitely were not as they appeared to be as far as who was who.


I remembered stories written in the 1960’s from the days of my youth when I used to read science fiction and fantasy and I realised that much of those science fiction ideas had already been superseded under my very nose.

When I saw that the film ‘Impostor’ based on one of the many short stories of Philip K Dick had been made into a film I was both suspicious and curious.

Other such Dick movies included ‘Screamers’ the story of evolving killer robots that became human and used sonic warfare to immobilise their victims, and ‘Blade Runner’ the story of the rebellious Androids evolving souls.

‘Impostor’ is about an Alien race that replaces people with look-alike exploding bombs.

I thought that the movie itself was worth keeping as a memento of that bygone era of science faction and ordered a copy from HMV in Edinburgh.

It arrived eventually and I decided to give it another look.

Breaking open the cellophane wrapping I got into my new DVD case and put the disc into the player.

There were pictures, nice pictures, but no sound.

Checking my volume and my connections I retried and there was still no sound.

I put another DVD into the player and it tested with sound, but on my ‘Impostor’ DVD there was no sound except a slight hiss.

Realising that this was a bit extraordinary for an industrial process in the media industry to have such issues and that my life was actually full of strange co-incidences, I wondered if somebody was trying to tell me something, so in case there was something for me to hear somewhere on that film I decided to give it a watch.

Sure enough, the sound track that wasn’t there actually was, but it wasn’t in English. There was some sort of hiss and crackle .. but whenever somebody looked at the camera the noise got louder but died down when they looked away.

It would go on like this such that every time there was a close up of an actors eyes the hissing sound would crescendo and then die down with another scenic shot.

I cannot remember in the movie in the cinema noticing how the sound track got louder every time you saw a close up of an actors face and eyes – so if this hissing was some sort of residual audio corruption of a human soundtrack it probably wasn’t following the original dynamic of the film.

Twenty Quid wasted I thought, more cheeky alien show-offs trying to impress me with their subliminal programming of the human race.

I was really into tendering my resignation as a Scottish ‘Fox Mulder’ because obviously this kind of material doesn’t get to get heard at the big establishment controlled UFO conferences in places like England.

The Scottish UFOlogist that plays the game usually has to be content with talking about lights in the sky and relating that most of those were manmade by the Military.

The UK arms industry, though, is famous for its deals with rich Arab princes and its sales of whole squadrons of expensive jets often used in a decorative capacity, but surely even British Aerospace was not churning out shape shifting interstellar technology.


Then I hit on an idea.

These smart-ass aliens seemed so good at this takeaway stuff and producing absolutely anything at a moment’s notice that I reckoned I was going to give them something to think about.

If I wasn’t going to get paid for this field research  – at least I could get a pizza out of it.

I sat down pen and paper in hand and began to write an order for a pizza.

It was going to be logical, in a language that they would understand and I was going to use the IF’s and AND’s and THEN and OR of a Visual Basic programmer.

I assumed they were listening, especially since the teletext words on my TV had recently formed the phrase ‘Be Good’ !!.


I defined pizza.

I defined box.

I defined the box colour as yellow.

I defined cola.

I defined the delivery time constraints.

I also defined retribution should the pizza and cola not arrive within the stipulated time.

The retribution was a Virus called Mr Frosty who would get into the Communications uplink and take it down.

Mr Frosty was a virus of tough character that could call on other resources to supplement his attack.

Mr Frosty was the essence of me and my personality.

Other resources from X, Y and Z would make sure that Mr Frosty Virus would definitely disrupt their communications centre.


If I don’t get a medium sized mozzarella pizza in a yellow pizza box and a can of cola delivered within the next twenty minutes, then a virus called Mr Frosty will get into your comms uplink and disable it.

As they say ‘you can’t go wrong with pizza !!’


No sooner had I put the pen down onto the coffee table than there is a ring at my doorbell.

Pizza I thought ..

I opened my front door to see a small lady, self-employed on business with a satchel full of pizza box sized items.

She was allegedly from the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

They were pizza box sized calendars and every one of them was yellow.

She offered me the chance to buy a calendar … and she then asked me smiling what colour of yellow had I in mind.


I declined the offer to buy one of the many yellow calendars with a little doggy in the middle of it.

She left.

I realised that I had not defined the specific RGB pantone colour of yellow .. then on reflection realised that whoever that was came out of nowhere with lots and lots of context specific material assembled at a moments notice.

I wasn’t going to get my pizza after all.


Heading up the road the next day on my way to the local Wal-Mart, feeling rather disconcerted I noticed the local pet shop adjacent to the store.

On the wall in silver had been sprayed by parties unknown .. ‘Mr Frosty if you can read this you are Gay .. !!’


This was getting a bit personal.