Chapter 30

Chorley. August: the day the Swarm arrive.

Jimmy didn’t even look up at the knock on the door. He ignored it, sinking deeper into himself. He didn’t want any more sympathisers. Couldn’t cope with them. Mary’s death hadn’t been a real surprise, she’d been poorly for many months now, but the suddenness of the end had been more than he could deal with.

The knock repeated itself. Harder and longer. Again he ignored it. “Go away,” he muttered to himself. “Leave me alone.”

After the funeral two days earlier, he had bid his last guest goodbye, and then sunk into the armchair, from where he had barely moved since.

His anger exploded when the banging came again, louder and more insistent, and this time didn’t stop. Flinging open the front door, he glared at the small, middle-aged man standing in front of him holding a clip board.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” yelled Jimmy, grief making his anger stronger. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Mr James Todd?”

“Go away. I’m busy.”

Jimmy made to close the door, but a foot was interposed between the door and the jam.

“Mr. Todd. According to our records you don’t have a television licence. That is a criminal offence punishable with an immediate fine of one thousand pounds, or if you refuse to pay, of up to seven thousand five hundred pounds. A television licence is now three hundred and fifty eight pounds and fifty pence. You now owe one thousand three hundred and fifty eight pounds and fifty pence as long as you pay it right here right now.”

“Go away you stupid little man,” said Jimmy dully. “First off I don’t have a television, and haven’t had one for six years, and second off a licence for a pensioner is only one hundred and twenty. And if you don’t know that then you’re an incompetent, and if you do: a fraudster.” Free TV licenses for pensioners had been scrapped nearly a decade earlier.

“What do you mean you don’t have a TV? Why not?”

“Because I don’t want one. Now go away.”

“You’re a liar. Everybody has a television. You have to have. Now pay up. A television licence is mandatory.” There was a very brief pause. “Mandatory means you have no choice,” Jimmy was told in a very condescending and insulting tone of voice.

“I. Don’t. Have. A. Television.” Jimmy repeated slowly and carefully as if to a young child.

“Rubbish. How do you get the news if you don’t? You must watch the football and the soaps, everyone does.”

“Well I don’t. There’s no news on TV any more, I’ve never watched soap operas, and if I want to watch the football I go and watch it live.” Jimmy looked at the ID badge his ‘visitor’ was wearing. “Look Mister Malcolm sodding Slaithwaite. I don’t have a television. Which part of that statement manages to escape you? Which part of that statement are you too stupid to understand? Now go away, I’m busy.”

Again Jimmy made to close the door, and again he was prevented from doing so.

“Mister Todd. If you don’t pay up right now I will have no choice but to inform the authorities that you are refusing your civic responsibilities.”

“CIVIC RESPONSIBILITIES?” roared Jimmy. “WHAT FLAMING PLANET do you live on?” His voice quietened slightly. “A licence is not a civic responsibility. It’s a legal requirement if you have a television, and only if you have a television. I don’t have a television, therefore I don’t need a licence. Come in and check if you don’t believe me.”

“You must have a television.”

“No! I mustn’t! There’s no legal requirement to have a television if I don’t want one. We didn’t want one as there was never anything on worth watching. We had better things to do.”

“Then how do you watch the news?”

“I’ve just told you, I don’t. There is no news. Not any more. It’s propaganda by this fraudulent, immoral, evil, good for nothing government.”

Slaithwaite’s face went red. “What do you mean propaganda? That is the honest news. Graham Thorn only allows the truth to be broadcast. He doesn’t allow all the lies that the BBC and ITV used to broadcast. As for Sky, CNN and the others, they were so blatant about their lies that they had to be banned.”

“Thorn? Truth? That man wouldn’t know the truth if it got up and bit him. I don’t trust him. That man is the ultimate liar.”

Slaithwaite looked shocked. “How can you not trust Graham Thorn? He’s probably the best Prime Minister this country has ever had.”

“Best?” Jimmy managed to sound very scornful. “I’d rather have Thatcher, Blair or Cameron than Thorn any day. I’d trust any of them far more than I’d ever trust Thorn.” Jimmy looked at Slaithwaite’s shocked face. “You’re probably too young to remember Thatcher,” he started, but Slaithwaite interrupted him.

“I remember her. There is,” Slaithwaite stopped what he was going to say and and stared at Jimmy, frowning. His expression rapidly changed from shock to anger and hate. “I know who you are. You’re a recidivist. A revolutionary. You are a traitor.” He put his hand on Jimmy’s chest and pushed backwards. “I’m going to report you for this. And you’ll still have to pay the fine. And the TV licence. And that crack about fraud and incompetence won’t be forgotten either.”

Jimmy allowed himself to be pushed backwards. At seventy five he should be weaker than Slaithwaite, who looked to be in his mid to late forties. “Thorn is the real traitor,” Jimmy said coldly. “A traitor to the British people. A traitor to the human race. The whole of the human race will be improved just by his death. I’m just glad he hasn’t got any children to carry on his...”

Slaithwaite slapped Jimmy hard. “You’ll regret that. Thorn is the ultimate patriot. He has saved us from invasion by the Americans and the French and the Irish. From the Jews, the Moslems, the blacks. Hadn’t you noticed there’s less of them around?”

“Oh I’d noticed alright. It’s because he’s doing a Hitler. A Stalin. Shipping people he doesn’t like the look of to the gulags and the gas chambers. He’s a murderer. It shames me that someone like him is allowed to breathe the same air as the honest people of this country. But it shames me more that people like you support him and refuse to see him for what he really is. And even more that people actually believe his lies.”

“Right,” snapped Slaithwaite. “I’m reporting you. Sit there.” He pushed Jimmy into an armchair, and stood about three feet in front of him, glaring at him as he pulled an old and battered mobile phone from his pocket.

Jimmy might have looked weak, but three and a half years earlier he had been put through a Confederacy medical tube. He sat forward, rubbing his back as if it was aching. In reality this allowed Jimmy to get his feet and body in the position he needed. He paused for a moment, watching Slaithwaite out of the corner of his eyes. He waited until the younger man looked away from him, to his phone, then struck. To Slaithwaite’s complete shock Jimmy was on him before he realised there was a problem. For a few seconds he believed he could fight off the old man, but then, as he realised Jimmy was far stronger than he appeared, fear began to replace his arrogance.

Barely a minute later Jimmy looked down at the corpse, barely panting from the exertion. The position of the neck showed clearly that it had been broken by twisting. “Shit,” he muttered. There was no way he could shift the corpse out to his car. It was parked on the busy street and there were a lot of people around.

After a few moments’ thought, he lifted Slaithwaite’s corpse as if it were just a bag of sugar and lugged him into the bathroom. Dropping him into the bath, Jimmy hurried into the kitchen. He hunted around for the sharp knives. This had been Mary’s domain and she’d been fiercely proud of her abilities in the kitchen. Jimmy rarely cooked, not because he couldn’t, but simply because Mary just hadn’t let him. Only in the last three days of her life had she been unable to do the cooking.

He eventually spotted the knives in a block behind the bread bin. Pulling the two largest, and sharpest, he took them into the bathroom. “Oh fuck,” he breathed. He just didn’t know where to start. Forty odd years earlier, as an SAS trooper, he’d regularly had to live in the field, and had often had to butcher a wild rabbit or bird they had caught for dinner. He thought he could still remember how to do that, but this was completely different.

He tested the knife on Slaithwaite’s thumb, and found that while it cut through the skin, eventually, it wouldn’t cut through the bone. Jimmy put Slaithwaite’s hand on the side of the bath, put the knife over the bottom joint of the thumb and pressed down with all his weight. There was a click as the knife suddenly went through, separating the bones, but there was still a thin strip of skin linking the two parts. That came away quickly enough afterwards, but it all showed that the knives were not truly sharp enough.

“Not a chance,” muttered Jimmy. “This’ll take far too long,” he thought. Now what?

There were some secateurs, pruning shears, in the garden shed. Because they lived in the ground floor flat, Jimmy and Mary had taken it upon themselves to maintain and look after the garden on behalf of all the residents. Jimmy knew the secateurs were sharp, he’d not long sharpened them.

He got the secateurs and as he turned spotted some croppers lying nearby. They would go through a branch about an inch and a half thick, so he picked those up as well, hoping they would go through some of the thicker bones. He had no saws or stronger cutting gear, so this was the best he could do.

Forty minutes later the second knife broke. He threw it down in disgust. The secateurs and croppers had only got him so far, now he needed to remove flesh to allow the croppers access to the bones. In those forty minutes he had removed all the corpse’s fingers and toes, both hands and feet, and the left fore-arm. He had tried to remove the upper arm as well, but the croppers had been unable to open wide enough. The same problem occurred with the knees, so he’d not even tried with the hips. He had nicked himself a few times on the sharp knife, and had got blood farther than he’d wanted. The knife had snapped when he’d tried to slide it down and into the right elbow, to sever the radius and ulna from the humerus.

“Bastards,” he growled in frustration. He needed a proper butcher’s cleaver, more sharp knives - preferably stronger ones than the two he’d broken - and lots of bags. He needed to get the body to the yard to be disposed of through the replicator. And he needed rags, lots of them, to clean up afterwards.

Slaithwaite’s clothes were already bagged, all the pockets emptied. All the money had gone straight into Jimmy’s own pocket: no point in wasting it, but everything else had been put into another bag for disposal. He sighed, picked up another, even smaller knife, held it for a moment just looking at the bloody corpse and then threw it down. “Not a bloody chance,” he muttered. “I need help.”

Washing his hands carefully, he picked up his phone. Slaithwaite’s mobile had been dismantled early on, the battery removed and the SIM taken out and chopped up. He had then used the croppers and a hammer to take the phone apart and destroy it beyond repair or accessibility. This might be slightly overkill, but Jimmy was more than a touch paranoid about his safety and security.

“Bill first,” he thought. He dialled.

“Hello?” came a woman’s voice a few seconds later.

“Sue, is Bill there? It’s Jimmy.”

“Yes Jimmy,” came a dry, resigned voice. “I do recognise your voice you know. Be quick, I’m about to serve up dinner.”

There was a pause.

“Jimmy, you okay man? How you doing?”

“I need urgent vermin help.”

There was a small silence while Bill digested this statement.

“Uh. How urgent?”

Jimmy considered. “It’ll wait a short while, but not too long. The smell is likely to get up.”

“Ah. You’ve managed to kill at least one rat?”

“Just one, but there’ll be others about I suspect.”

“Ah,” Bill’s voice dropped slightly. “Shall I ask our granddaughter?”

It was Jimmy’s turn to go silent as he puzzled over Bill’s question. Our granddaughter? “Oh. Yes. That’ll be fine.” He twigged that Bill was talking about Sophie. He’d not met the woman, but both Ted and Bill had been really pleased and proud at how she and her friends had progressed.

“Okay. I’ll get in touch now.”

“One other thing. Any chance you have a spare sharp knife? I was cutting some raw beef earlier and mine snapped. It’s not a problem if you don’t, I can get one tomorrow.”

At the other end of the phone, Bill smiled slightly. He knew what Jimmy was asking. “Sure, I’ll get her to bring a spare one over.”

“Cheers mate.”

“No problem. You take care now.” The two men hung up.

Jimmy hurried back into the bathroom and began cleaning up. Filling a bucket with warm water and sloshing in a tiny amount of bleach, more to kill the smell of the blood than for any real deep clean purposes, he poured it slowly and carefully over the body, sluicing as much of the blood and other bodily fluids down the drain. Grabbing two old tea-towels, he quickly wiped up the splashes of blood on the floor and walls. They then joined the dead man’s clothes in the bag.

It was nearly two hours before there was a ring on the door bell. Jimmy looked through the peephole as well as checking the little spy camera. There was a young woman carrying a small holdall, and three young men. They appeared to be relaxed and cheerful, and, Jimmy couldn’t hear them, seemed to be joking around a bit.

He put the chain on the door and opened it. “Yes?”

“Hi,” said the young woman. “My granddad sent me. You have a small rat infestation?”

Jimmy quickly eyed the three lads who had all calmed down and were looking at him, open faces friendly and cheerful. He nodded, and closed the door to remove the chain.

As soon as the four were inside, Jimmy saw the change. They went from young people just being casual, to serious professionals.

Putting down the bag, the young woman held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Anne. This is Brad, Charlie and Donald.”

Jimmy managed to hide his smile at such obvious fake names. “Jimmy,” he said, shaking hands with all four. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard all about you. This way.” He led them into the bathroom.

Charlie looked a little sick at the sight, and both Anne and Donald went a bit pale. It didn’t stop them though, and three hours later, with the help of some seriously sharp and large knives, an electric saw and a lot of effort and elbow grease, Slaithwaite’s body had been cut up into pieces that would each fit into a typical plastic supermarket carrier bag without trouble. Anne had brought nearly thirty bags with her, and Jimmy had found another half dozen around the flat, but they still needed at least the same again, and probably more. The problem was, everything had to be double and triple bagged to ensure no leakages of body fluids.

“Right,” said Jimmy when they had done as much as they could. “I can get it all somewhere safe and secure, somewhere where the remains can never be found. Since we don’t have enough bags, I’ll need to do it in two trips, to get rid of the first lot, and to pick up some more bags. Can I leave you guys here while I do that? Just in case?”

Anne nodded. “Sure. We sort of know what you’re gonna do. Would you like one of us to come with you?”

Jimmy considered it. “Maybe. Okay. We need to get the bags into the car as quick as possible.” He handed his keys and a small tarpaulin to Anne, and described his car. “Go open up please, while we...” she smiled and nodded her understanding, leaving quickly.

Loading the car, and unloading it again at the yard was very quick as none of the individual bags was either particularly heavy, or particularly bulky, so the unpleasant chore went quickly and smoothly. The replicator took nearly an hour to dispose of the part corpse, while at the same time producing another fifty bags and a load of cleaning cloths and fluid. While Brad got back in the car for the trip back to Jimmy’s flat, Jimmy quickly set up the replicator to produce more cloths, and a dozen bottles of beer. They would be ready by the time he came back on his second trip.

“Right, now for round two,” said Jimmy as he let off the hand brake.

Brad just smiled at Jimmy’s half-hearted joke.

When they got back, the three remaining behind had done as much cleaning in the bathroom as it was currently possible to do, though there was still much more to do.

The remaining body parts were quickly bagged, and again Anne, Charlie and Donald remained behind to continue the cleaning while Jimmy and Brad went back to the yard. It was well after eleven before they were all finished, and the bathroom as clean as it was possible to get. Jimmy knew he would need to make one more trip to the yard to get rid of the last of the bloody cloths, but he was fairly sure they would safely wait until the morning. For the time being, they were in the washing machine getting a normal wash. He had added a triple load of bleach though.

Beyond necessary words, almost the entire job had been done in complete silence. It had been necessary, but it had also helped. Once they had finished however, the silence turned awkward.

Jimmy smiled. “Thank you folks. That’s a job well done. Never thought I’d have to do anything like that in my own home though.”

“Have you had to do anything like that before?” asked Anne.

Jimmy smiled slightly. “What do you think?” he asked.

The four looked at each other and almost as one just shrugged.

Jimmy burst out laughing. The sight had been comical, and the stress relieved itself in laughter. The four smiled uncertainly.

“I’m sorry guys, you just looked so funny. Yes. Sort of. That box has taken a few rats in the last couple of years, I just haven’t ever needed to do what you guys just did.”

“Ah. Okay. Sorry. We’ve never had to do that either.”

“You did okay. You did better than okay. Come on into the living room. Would any of you like a drink?”

“I’d love a coffee if you have one please,” said Brad, just as Donald’s phone beeped.

“Is that what you want? Coffee? I have some beers if you want them?”

Brad and Charlie looked at each other, and Jimmy could see that both were wanting to say yes.

Anne saw it and said it for them. She smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

The five sat, beer in hand, and slowly relaxed.

“Are you all okay for getting home?” Jimmy asked after a few seconds.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. That’s no problem.”

“Sophie!” Donald looked up from his phone. “Something’s happened,” he looked around at the shocked faces of his friends.

“Donald,” hissed Charlie.

“What? Oh.” He looked worriedly at Jimmy.

“Don’t worry. I already knew they were all false names. Just be careful. Now. You were about to tell Anne something?”

“Sorry,” Donald looked contrite, but also excited. “Something’s happened.”

“Like what?” asked Anne/Sophie.

“I’ve got an old style SMS text from my cousin in Germany. It’s all over the news over there, and everywhere else by all accounts.”

“What is?”

“The aliens. They’ve arrived.”

“WHAT?” Four shouts came simultaneously.

Jimmy had dived for his phone, but before he reached it, it started buzzing.

“Hello boss.”

There was a brief pause. “You have company?” asked Joe.

“The grand daughter and her friends.” Jimmy didn’t want to name Bill, in case Sophie and her friends hadn’t been told it. “Helping me with some vermin trouble.”

There was another pause. “Ah. Ted and Bill’s ‘granddaughter’?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well don’t say anything to them, but apparently President Hernandez was on the TV a few minutes ago, announcing the fact that the aliens have arrived.”

“Oh. They already know. They were just saying that when you rang. One of them had an old style text.”

There was another pause as Joe digested this. “Okay. If you’ve finished what you’re doing, send them home, and tell them to wait to be contacted. Nothing will happen straight away, so they should get some rest. Ring me back when you’re free.”

“Will do.” He hung up and turned to the youngsters.

They were crowded around Donald who, it seemed, knew nothing more than he’d just blurted out. All he knew was what his cousin had told him, and that was that the aliens had arrived.

Jimmy stood. “Troop!”

The four quickly stood and arrayed themselves around him.

“Orders. Go home. Get some rest. Apparently nothing will happen soon, so get some rest. I have only a little more intel than you have: President Hernandez has announced something, but what I don’t know. Wait to be contacted, do not pass rumours. At this time it’s little more than an unsubstantiated rumour that the aliens have arrived. Passing it on will only panic people. Actually, what you can do, is contact the rest of your group and tell them the same. Tell them to rest and wait and not spread rumours.

“Remember, not everyone believes. Those that do may panic, those that don’t may report you. It may be a misunderstanding, or mistranslation. Hernandez’s first language is Mexican Spanish. It’s possible he mistranslated, or just as likely, a British English translation of a German translation of a Mexican Spanish original by a European Spanish speaker that may in turn be a translation of a US English report.”

He looked around the four youngsters who were smiling at the image his words had created.

“Chinese whispers,” muttered ‘Anne’ softly.

Jimmy smiled at her. “Assume nothing, so say nothing.” He smiled around at them all. “Thank you very much for your help this evening, it’s been most appreciated. If the report is correct you’ll all need sleep, so go get it. Understand?”

All four nodded, looking relieved to have definite instructions.

Jimmy smiled. “Good. Dismissed.”

There was a gentle ripple of laughter, and the four picked up their belongings, including the open and unfinished bottles of beer. As they left, Jimmy shook the hand of each one.

A few minutes later he dialled Joe.

“It’s after midnight,” came a querulous voice.

“Patty, it’s Jimmy. Joe...”

Patty’s voice instantly changed. “Yes Jimmy. He’s right here.”

There was almost no pause as Joe came back on the line. “Jimmy. Joe. Thank you for ringing back. When I rang you it was just a readiness alert, however I’ve just had more details from Commander Pierra. A Swarm fleet arrived in system and was destroyed out near Saturn. Apparently they’re worried that an escort vessel may have escaped. Hopefully I’ll get more information soon. Regardless, there’s nothing to do for now, just be prepared.”

“Yes sir. Assuming nothing, is there any intel on when another fleet might arrive?”

“Sorry, no. When I have more I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, thank you. Goodnight sir.”

“Good night Jimmy.”

They hung up.

Jimmy looked around the room. It had been just after five pm when Slaithwaite had knocked on the door and he’d been feeling sorry for himself. Now, slightly over seven hours later, he felt all revved up and wide awake.

He looked at the photograph of Mary on the mantelpiece. It had been taken about four years previously, shortly before her illness had begun to manifest itself. Mary had never known Jimmy had been through the Confederacy medical process, she would have denounced him on the spot if she’d known, but Jimmy wished with all his heart he could have her back right now. He touched the photo lightly. “Good night my precious lady,” he whispered.

The following morning, bright and early, Jimmy took the last of the cleaning cloths in a bag down to the yard, and tossed them into the replicator. They were gone in minutes. He had also brought down the two broken knives for repair and cleaning. Ted turned up just moments later.

“Jimmy. Bill’s told me you had vermin problems last night?”

Jimmy quickly explained, telling Ted what he and Sophie and her friends had done. “I’ve cleaned up as much as is practically possible, but there’s some things I have no way of cleaning absolutely. The wall tiles around the bath, the lino, the bath and sink themselves. Things like the bathmats and towels have been removed, as has everything not fixed down. I’m just getting replacements now,” he indicated the replicator. “I’ve programmed it to reproduce some things exactly as they were when they went in, down to the dirt, hairs and everything, but without the foreign blood. I think I’ve got it to remove anything else with Slaithwaite’s DNA, but I’m not sure if that will work. If I’ve got it right.”

Ted nodded. “Good idea. Are you okay though?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. I’ll miss her terribly, but I’ve got to get on with life now.”

Ted gripped his shoulder. “I’m sure you will, but you know where we are. Now. Do you think it’s safe to go back to your flat?”

Jimmy considered it, then turned to look at the workshop that was behind him. He waved at it. “There’s a sort of flat over the workshop. According to the building regs, no one is supposed to live there, and especially sleep there, but I’m sure I could make it liveable. Under the circumstances it might be better. Closer to the shop. Closer to the box.”

Ted nodded slowly. “Good idea. What will you do with the flat?”

Jimmy shrugged. “No idea. I could sell I suppose, but what would I do with the money? In any case I imagine that once the news comes out, property prices will plummet.” He gave another shrug. “I’ll think about it. Rent it maybe, but that has its own problems.”

“Okay man. Let me know when, and I’ll get Bill and Harry and we’ll come and give you a hand shifting.”

“Cheers mate. I don’t suppose you’ve heard any more about what’s happened up there do you?”

“Only that one large and an unspecified number of smaller vessels arrived. The biggy and all but one of the others were destroyed. They’re pretty damned certain that one escaped, but it may have been damaged in the fight. Apparently that’s still a matter of some conjecture though, and there’s no word on any follow up.”

“Okay, no worries.” Jimmy grinned. “Yet!”

Ted smiled. “Better get off. Things to do.” The two men briefly gripped arms and then Ted hurried off. Jimmy spent the rest of the morning tidying up the small flat above the garage. Planning regulations stated that it could be used as an office or store room, but not as a permanent living space. That didn’t matter though, as long as he was discreet he knew he would be able to get away with it. Having a replicator that could produce all the cleaning materials he needed, as well as some of the basics in the way of comforts made the work easier and quicker. It even produced the couple of sandwiches he survived the day on. He deliberately did not think about where the molecules and atoms that went to make up the sandwiches may have come from.

All of them began to notice a few changes over the next twenty four hours, Jimmy more so because of where he lived and worked. Some people looked scared, others looked scornful, many just looked confused. There was bewildered chat in the small corner shop where Jimmy picked up the odd bit of fresh food. His replicator was okay, but only had a limited selection of food stuffs. He supposed he should buy some more stuff to put through, but had never found the time nor, before now, the need.

“But I thought it was all fraud,” he heard one old lady saying to another as he waited in the queue at the till.

“It is. Isn’t it? I’m sure Graham Thorn said it was all fake.”

There was a pause. “Anyway,” said the first. “Even if he is wrong, that was days ago, surely they’d be here by now.”

Another pause. “Where did it happen? Where are they coming from?” Both women looked even more bewildered.

“It happened out near Saturn,” Jimmy interjected quietly.

“Satum?” asked one, mishearing. “Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it. Is it anywhere near Manchester? Is that where these aliens are from? Manchester?”

“No,” said the other, “he said...” she paused and turned to Jimmy. “Where did you say?”

“It’s one of the giant planets way out in the Solar system. Saturn.”

“Is that where they come from?”

“The aliens?” asked Jimmy. “No. Long way away. Some star hundreds maybe thousands of light years away. That is,” he added as he realised people were starting to listen in, “if you believe in them.”

“They’re not real,” this was from a middle-aged man carrying a pint of milk and a packet of biscuits.

“Oh?” asked Jimmy, turning to him with raised eyebrows.

“Can’t be. Not possible.”

“Oh?” asked Jimmy again.

“You only need to go up three or four miles and you hit the sky. It’s just a big dome over the ground.”

Jimmy turned away, but one of the women tapped the other man on the arm. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that young man, even I know Mount Everest is five miles high, and planes fly higher than that.”

“Oh but it’s not a joke. There no such thing as ‘outer space’. It’s all a lie. The sun and the moon go around us. Earth doesn’t move, it’s flat. If the Earth was really round and spinning as fast as they say it is we’d all fly off. Did you never go on a round-about as a youngster?”