“So you say you caught these ‘aliens’ in the middle of cutting a crop circle into your barley field,” the detective inspector said.
“Yup.” said the farmer.
“And your response to this intergalactic invasion was not to contact the proper authorities,” said his detective sergeant, “but to invite these extraterrestrials to tea.”
“Yup,” said the farmer.
“Tell me, how did you even know they would understand you, or know what tea was?” the detective inspector added.
“Well now, don’t know that I rightly did, but I says to myself: Nigel, if these ‘ere aliens has solved the massive problems of energy, mass, an’ relativity inherent in travelin’ twixt the stars, well, they ought to be able to understand the King’s own an’ know when they’s asked in for a cuppa, eh? Translating’s the easy part, guv, it’s the crossin’ o’ millions o’ miles that’s hard.”
“And that, in your own words, is why you now have a farm field covered with tiny triangular cups of tea?” said the detective sergeant.
“Yup,” said the farmer. “An’ I’m stickin’ to that.”
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