Downtown Area 51

Nothing but the sound of traffic. It looked an ordinary road. The camera swung ninety degrees. Another ordinary road. Another ninety degrees. Another ordinary road. Again. Ninety degrees. An ordinary road. Nothing but the sound of traffic. A well dressed man popped into view. The angle widened. He was surrounded by bushes and shrubs. "I bet you're wondering what I am doing here?"

He held his hands up to the skies. He was in the middle of a roundabout.

The well dressed man was now walking along the pavement.

"This might look like an ordinary suburban junction, and to most it is. But as you're about to see, all is not as it appears. Down here in, Downtown Area 51."

A man appeared beside him on the street.

"Sid Buttercup. You've lived here all your life. Have you ever seen unusual lights or sights, or heard things that go bump in the night?"

"Not a thing. They recon it was an old Roman burial ground. Or something."

A new face. A woman.

"What do you know about all the goings on in this area?"

"What goings on?"

"All the sightings of UFO's, the most in Europe in fact and bright lights in the skies. Stories about alien abductions."

"Never heard a thing. Told me it was safe to live around here. It's alright them doing that to one another in their own country. Not getting away with it here. They want to get a job. Coming over here, kidnapping people."

A new face. Serious looking.

"This is Mr. Walls Rugg, and you're something of an expert in the unknown. I believe you have a theory of what is going on here, in postcode Area 51."

"Yes I do. First of all. Just look at the names of the places around here in Area 51. The Bermuda Quadrant Roundabout. Which joins Great Roswell Street, Stargate Avenue, Dune Lane and Bermuda Quadrant together. I believe these are guide lines to help alien travellers find their way about."

"Half the streets in my neighbourhood are named after film stars. Does that mean I live in Hollywood?"

"There's other things that prove we're being visited. Alien abductions occur exactly when the stars are lined up over Stonehenge, the third telephone outside the post office in St Dildos, central Portugal becomes engaged and the Russian nightingale at the bottom of King Olaf's garden whistles in a southerly direction."

"Do you expect people to believe that?"

"Believe what they want. It is true."

"Have you ever seen anything strange near the Bermuda Quadrant Roundabout. Witness first hand little green men?"

"They are not actually green. A light grey colour, most of them. Depends on where they come from. And what time of year it is. Summer holidays."

"Are you trying to tell us, Mister Rugg that the Bermuda Quadrant Roundabout. Is a tourist resort?"

"Not quite. More of a picnic area."

The well dressed man was indoors and had a new face beside him. A man in a white coat. They are standing by a video machine.

"I'm at the Institute for Wondering why Things are Not Right. And beside me is Professor Shelf, who's an expert in Figuring It Out. And hopefully shed some light on the matter. Professor Shelf. What can you tell us about the strange goings on reported around this area?"

"First of all. I don't think visitors from another planet would land there. What for? The land has been examined thoroughly. Nothing particularly special about the place. No deposits of anything. Nothing we can see lines it up with anything..."

"There is one theory that it lines up with phone boxes in Portuga....."

"I've heard that too.