One Hundred And Forty-Fourth Entry in the YOA Unauthorized Programme Guide Finite Imagination Appendix O' Oo Yoo Lookin At?
8D - The Doomsday Single -
For years, Earth scientists have sent signals into deep space, some of them intentionally in the hope to receive a reply. Today, we finally got one. It was not the kind we were expecting. In fact, today we got four. Typical. You wait ages for an extra terrestrial intelligence, then four come along at once!
The festive mood of New Orleans Mardi Gras is suddenly broken as an intergalactic spaceship blots out the sky - you can tell it's intergalactic because of all the go-faster stripes. These aliens have come to response to a pop song they heard and mistook for one of those messages:
"PEOPLES OF THE PLANET TERRA, I AM COMMANDER SUPPLE OF THE SNOTARAN SPECIAL SPACE SERVICE. WE HAVE RECEIVED YOUR INVITATION TO DOMINATE YOUR PLANER AND HAVE COME TO RESPOND. I'M NOT SURPRISED YOU NEED SOME CRUEL ALIEN OVERLORDS AROUND THE PLACE, YOUR TECHNOLOGICAL LEVEL IS SHOCKINGLY POOR. YOU CAN BARELY ESCAPE YOUR PLANET'S GRAVITY, YOU'VE NEVER TRAVELED BEYOND YOUR SYSTEM AND YOU STILL THINK DIGITAL WATCHES ARE A PRETTY NEAT IDEA! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH YOURSELVES ALL THESE YEARS? STOP NOBBING EACH OTHER AND START EVOLVING ALREADY! PREPARE TO BE ASSWHUPPED!"
Mankind's greatest disaster has come upon him and/or her, as in a matter of moments, New Orleans becomes the first victim of alien reprisal. It seems Earth's gesture of friendship to the galaxy has been ignored and some prog rock has been grossly misinterpreted. But who can stop the ensuing cataclysm unleashed by a race bent on vengeance?
"PEOPLE OF EARTH. THIS IS THE NESTLE CONSCIOUSNESS. AGAIN. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY, BUT CAN NOW CONFIRM OUR INVASION. YOUR IMMINENT DESTRUCTION FOLLOWS SHORTLY. I THANK YOU."
Before Earth can muster what forces it can, a second ship appears in the skies. Then a third. Snotaran? No! Earth's signals have been intercepted by other alien races as well. No, wait, that's passive... I mean, "other alien races have intercepted Earth's signals as well". Right. And now the Nestles and the Cybermen have come to exact their retribution as well upon a world foolish enough to challenge them.
And then it gets worse...
"THIS IS CYBER EMPEROR DEGA, LEADER OF THE TELOSIAN BATTLESTAR! IN EXACTLY FIVE OF YOUR PRIMITIVE MINUTES, PHALANXES OF CYBERMEN WILL DESCEND UPON THE EARTH TO PILLAGE YOUR LAND, LOOT YOUR HOMES, AND RAVISH YOUR MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN STARTING WITH MIAMI. YOU NOW HAVE FOUR MINUTES AND FORTY FIVE SECONDS LEFT. YOU WILL UNDRESS, AND THEN YOU WILL BECOME LIKE US!!"
With four alien races vying for the honour of enslaving mankind and the Earth caught in the middle, is anyone able to stop the madness and save the world? Clue: he travels in a phone box.
"THIS IS THE SUPER TROD, LORD HIGH - OH, NEVER MIND, HAVEN'T THE TIME FOR THAT BOLLOCKS. MY WARRIORS WILL DEFEAT THESE UPSTARTS, THEY WILL TRACK THEM DOWN, MAKE THEM BURN AND BLISTER WITH THE PULSATING RHYTHM OF THEIR LOVE CANONS AND EXTRACT YOUR ORGANS WITH THEIR MASSIVE PROTUBERANCES. IN JUST THREE YEARS, THE CEREMONY OF MASS DEBASEMENT AND MINOR TISSUE DAMAGE ON EARTH WILL HAVE ENDED, AND WE SHALL RETURN TO CONQUERING THE UNIVERSE, I CAN TELL YOU. I LAUGH IN THE SHEER AND CERTAIN KNOWLEDGE THAT YOUR FATES WILL BE SO DEBAUCHED AND DEBILITATING, SO RIDDLED WITH PAINS UNIMAGINABLE TO MERE NON-TRODS, THAT THEY WILL LIVE IN LEGEND. HA HA HA. HAHAHAHA. HA HA HA HA HA!"
From the pen of John S. Drew, the writer who brought you last season's The Thyme Brokers, comes another story completely altered, adlibbed and messed up to the point it bears absolutely no resemblance to the original plot: The Doomsday Single!
A joint-smoking American-British-Japanese alternative music band appear on Top of the Pops with their new UK number one, a song challenging alien intelligences in outer space to conquer mankind, the toe-tapping disco number "Invade The Earth". It is hoped that the single will garner a gold record deal someday.
A few years later, sometime in the ethnographic 21st century, Dara is taking in Mardi Gras while the Doctor drowns his sorrows in a wine bar now he's stuck with the irritating bimbo schoolgirl slut for a companion. While enjoying the festivities, your typical thieving Hispanic stereotype steals Dara's discarded school uniform while she dances naked with a black guy called Hawk she has never met before in her life. As cheesy 70s cop music plays, Dara and Hawk chase the thief down and string him up upside down from a lamppost. Hawk and Dara then go back to mindless partying and taking strange pink rectangular pills which cause incredible hallucinations and dehydration, making them dance for hours to a remix tune that only they can hear!
Meanwhile the Doctor dozes off at the bar as he drunkenly tells everyone that he is far too busy pondering the weighty matters of a Time Lord to possibly pay the tab on this full moon evening. Then he falls off his chair, laughs hysterically and passes out.
As Dara and Hark enjoy their drug taking, a Snotaran battle cruiser arrives, having intercepted the disco song "Invade the Earth" and reasonably interpreting it as a challenge for war. So many innocent planets act all hurt and defensive when Snotarans attempt to occupy them, and just this once the population are shown literally crying out for evil alien overlords - so they don't intend to miss this opportunity.
Suddenly, New Orleans is under attack from the potato-headed merciless warlords who discover not only that jazz does not soothe the heart of the savage beast, it provides them a good rhythm to beat the living snot out of their victims.
Dara and Hawk simply assume the strange identical troll-like invaders are part of their hallucinations and promptly freak out. Their strange robot dancing proves incredibly violent and effective and severed Snotaran limbs are soon flying around, striking innocent civilians with lethal force. There's irony for you. This sudden aerobic activity speeds up the two teenagers' metabolisms and the drugs soon leave their systems... but the aliens are still there!
Realizing that this is serious, Dara and Hawk flee through New Orleans and discover the hungover Doctor lying in a gutter. Shaking him awake, the Time Lord opens his eyes to find himself prostrate before a hugely obese black guy and Dara Hamilton, both naked. He immediately screams and tries to claw out his own eyes, convinced he has finally gone to hell.
The Doctor flees into the TARDIS and Dara and Hawk follow. Inside, the Doctor sobers enough to realize what is finally going on and locks the two teenagers in a cupboard - and they immediately start making out. The Doctor, nauseated, decides to cheer himself up by single-handedly breaking into the attacking Snotaran ship and politely ask them to sod off home. However, he mistakes a distillery for a urinal and earns the hatred of the Snotarans when they discover he's ruined their new homemade table wines. The Doctor's protests that "Made from 100% Time Lord Piss" on the bottles could sell them for a fortune are ignored.
The Doctor confronts the leader of the Snotarans, Supple (Chip Jamison), who plays the "Invade the Earth" music while he and the Time Lord have a sophisticated three course meal using the fine culinary skills that turned the Snotarans into the glorious space empire they are today. The Doctor quickly works out the misunderstanding, but the song is so catchy and the Doctor soon finds himself wanting to help remove the magnetic core of the Earth using human slaves.
Hawk and Dara finally run out of energy and emerge from the TARDIS closet for some more drugs and accidentally send the time machine back to Earth. Showing even more disturbing stupidity than normal, Dara decided to emerge into the war zone rather than stay inside because she might get a bit bored. They then encounter the thief who, what with the alien apocalypse and everything, hasn't been arrested yet. So they beat him up again and insult his intelligence, upbringing and ethnicity.
Suddenly, without warning an army of plastic window dummies emerge from the shadows and start massacring any unlucky humans who haven't already been blown to green slime by the Snotarans. The Great Nestle Consciousness has failed before to dominate the Earth, and has believed that the pop song was humanity's way of saying "baby, I've changed, please come back".
Immediately, the Autons and Snotarans bicker amongst each other for the right of obliterating Earth - and thanks to the Nestle's uncanny ability to control plastic and chocolate, the war generals of Snotar are soon found dead, murdered by after dinner mints! These scenes of Auton/Snotaran carnage fill up another two episodes as the Doctor, Hawk, Dara and the Hispanic stereotype bump into each other as they flee through the rubble. They also help victims of the attack get medical assistance, and also appear on "Spill Your Guts On Live TV!" to give the audience their personal criticisms of how the invasion has ruined New Orleans property values.
Meanwhile, a third ship has answered the Earth challenge. And from this ship pour an endless army of Cybermen, who outnumber the Snotarans and the Autons by five hundred to one. Curiously, the millions of identical silver warriors teleport to New Orleans in groups of three and no more than four are ever seen together at the same time.
The Autons are not impressed by the Cybermen and start playing mean pranks, like tripping them over and sniggering at their iron wills. The Cybermen retaliate by snapping their fingers in unison and synchronized dancing. Soon the evil Cyberfiends have roughly seducing the Auton lust replicas, and the Nestle Consciousness has been completely sexually dominated by the Cyber Empire! But not even the dreaded Cybermen are prepared for the arrival of the Trodos Armada!
Ah, the Trods! Space Warmongers for more generations than life has existed on Earth, the robotic Trods cunning disguised their status as the ultimate killings machines by deliberately looking like absurd metal ice cream cones with ridiculously thick shoulder pads, massive metal claws and one-eyed grinning faces beneath science-fictiony antennae on their bucket like heads! The Trods are the most evil, despicable and fearsome warriors in the known universe, whose very name strikes fear into the hearts of every space-faring race! They have no souls; everything they do involves terror, destruction and violence at someone else's expense - they don't so much "visit" planets as "instantly assault, batter, rape, hack limb from limb and eat for breakfast" planets.
The leader of the Trods, marked by his tacky bling armor and personalized number plate reading SUPER-TROD, appears on the communications frequencies eviscerating some fluffy bunnies. The Cybermen, Autons and Snotarans silently stare at the newcomer, who booms on a broadcast picked up everywhere, "ALL OF YOU WANKERS TAKE A HIKE. EARTH IS OURS."
Confronted by the combined might of the Cyber-Autons AND the Trods, the Snotarans finish their dinner and set off their stockpile of volatizer bombs, and the three attackers are all completely annihilated... mere moments before the Doctor can use his brilliant makeshift anti-Cyber-Auton device: a crossbow that fires spoons into their enemies.
Realizing the entire situation has resolved itself without him, the Doctor shamefacedly shuffles back to the TARDIS. Hawk announces that not even all the class-A drugs he has consumed, Dara comes across as pompous, egotistical and self absorbed to a point she could be called catatonic, and so ditches her to join a band playing "Amazing Grace".
Dara snorts angrily and storms off, leaving New Orleans to recover from her one and only visit.
Books/Other Related Material-
Doctor Who In An Exciting Adventure With The Trods, The All-Round Evil Scary Mother-Shagging Robotic Butchering Bastards of Death!
The History of "Pick On Earth Day"
Do You Have The Street Cred To Save This Planet?
Links and References -
The Third Doctor is seen watching the all-important episode of Top of the Pops while he and Jo make out on the UNIT lab bench.
Untelevised Misadventures -
The Doctor once owned a beautiful iridescent green swamp bug from the planet Virgo 44, which would fly around the corridors of the TARDIS, singing its haunting chirruping pipe music... until Dara used her hairspray and cigarette lighter to kill it in agony. This particularly hurt the Doctor, as Dara knew the insect was harmless but just wanted to kill his pet anyway.
Dialogue Train Wrecks
Dara: I don't have my purse with me - but I can give you something much more valuable.
Mugger: And what could that be?
Dara: A purpose! You can worship my hottness and divine beauty that all boys are crazy about!
Mugger: Or I could just rape you, slit your throat and dump your body in a dumpster...
Dara: Are you saying you don't find me hot? Oh! My! God! I do NOT believe you just said that!
Supple: I would like to hear your suggestion.
Vast: Well, maybe we could send down some ground troops to engage the enemy in close range...
Supple: ENOUGH! I do not want to hear any more. I have it! We will send down some ground troops to engage the enemy at close range!
Vast: You pathetic little shit.
Vast: You nicked my ideas! What, are you stupid to have your own! Do you want me to come up with any more ideas for you excuse for brain?
Supple: How dare you mock my confidence issues!
Dara: Doctor, what's that woman doing over there on that fire escape! It looks like she's taking her shirt off!
Doctor: Well of course she is, this is a strip club.
Dara: Doctor, are you paying attention to me? You've been unusually sullen lately, in a real funk. Oh! My! God! Are you depressed?
Doctor: Only when I remember you're still alive, Dara.
Dara: Doesn't my hotness cheer you up?
Doctor: Not now, Dara, she's down to her G-string!
Supple: Perhaps I'll just toss you out of an airlock. Or maybe I'll make you listen to our Snotaran poetry.
Doctor: That's disgusting!!
Supple: I admit, tossing you out of an airlock may seem extreme...
Doctor: I wasn't referring to that!
Supple: You mean the poetry? It DOES have a reputation as being the third worst in the galaxy, but...
Doctor: I mean, you're plagiarizing Douglas Adams and worst of all, you think I won't NOTICE!!
Vast: He nicks a lot of ideas, it's really quite sad.
Dara: YES! I just want to scream and scream and pound the walls! Oh, Hawk, I don't think I've ever had sex this good before!
Hawk: Speak for yourself, you horse-eyed bint.
Cyberman: Why don't you Autons ever want to talk after sex?
Supple: How clever of the humans, to disguise a pit filled with water as a swimming pool.
Vast: Their deviousness knows no bounds. Help me out of it before I drown.
Doctor: Your plan won't work.
Cyberleader: I haven't even told you what it is.
Doctor: Doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it won't work.
Cyberleader: That's what you said last time, Doctor.
Cyberleader: [to other Cybermen] All right, pack everything up. We're leaving.
HG Wells: For ages human life has been playing much the same tune with variations - but much the same tune. What we call "covers" of Human Nature and similar pop groups. The general behavior, the normal system of reactions, the tacky merchandise, has been the same. The old, old story. Abnormal people have been kept in their places with strange haircuts and lip-synching. You don't think, Doctor, that that uniformity of human experience is going to be disturbed?
Doctor: Not until Michael Jackson's next single, no...
"The cover of this story is rubbish. Rubbish. You call that art? At the very least it needs a donkey skull spitting blood all over a kitten with a dagger through its head before it's worthy to put on the shelf - and the CGI Jeff Coburn is butt ugly." - Lee Binding (1999)
"In The Doomsday Single, we are treated to the side of Dara which was cause for much consternation by her parents...and some from the Doctor himself: Dara's teenage lust. Making quick work with Hawk, she virtually abandons the Doctor in favor of her new friend, leaving the Doctor to enjoy Mardi Gras alone. Good for him. But we also see some of that idiocy we saw in The Price of Paris. She first demands that Hawk worship her instead of worrying about the aliens attacking, and she also takes the petty thief Lucky and teaches him that screaming for her body takes much more courage than stealing from his fellow man. God I hate her."
- President of the Dara Hamilton Fan Club (2003)
"ONLY POP MUSIC CAN SAVE US NOW!!!" - Ewen Campion-Clarke (1988)
"Not a bad little story. Not a particularly good little story either. Though it is reputed to have been funnier had some of the ad-libbed lines stayed and might even have been something more than Trod pornography. The idea that a pop song from Earth can be misinterpreted is frightening if one stops to think about it and how possible that is. I mean, what if aliens heard MC Hammer - they might blow up the Earth just to put us out of our misery! Come to think of it, why haven't we been blown up already! Surely anything by Syd Viscous should have triggered an intergalactic war by now! My god, what if we're already dead and we're all in hell!? Or maybe it's heaven, and, well, heaven just plain sucks? Where was I? Oh yeah. Doomsday Single. Well, Hawk gets some good character development. Well, he has a character. It would have been nice to see Hawk continue as a companion, or maybe just Dara be thrown to the wolves. The jazz music is great. I bet that wouldn't start an alien war - in your FACE heavy metal!" - The Jeffrey Coburn Handbook (2000)
Jeffrey Coburn Speaks!
"When we got the script to The Doomsday Single, we were told to have fun with it. Lots of fun with it. In fact, we were told not to read the script and say whatever crap came to us on the day as long as we shouted it incredibly loudly and didn't mind any Trods being randomly added to the plot. There was a lot of ad-lib going on, too. Pity most of it didn't stay, it was quite funny. But then, some of it probably wasn't as G-rated as it should have been, so that's probably why some of it ended up on the cutting room floor. Too bad, a director's cut would be gold, I think.
Of course, this was the first one where Ray wasn't the script editor, and he had encouraged so much new talent to have a go at Doctor Who. Pity they were utter shit, but the thought is what count doesn't it?
Now, Joe Medina on the other hand was a deep, professional man. There are about seven thousand levels to Joe's brain, and you never quite know which one he's operating on at the time. They used to lock people up when they did that, and it was no secret we had to walk on eggshells around him. He loved boiled eggs, and god he made a mess. But the stories he could weave were very complex and worthy of awards.
Just a pity they were nothing like the stories Doug asked for. Still, what does he know?"
Rumours, Slander, and Libel
Over the last nine years, the Superiority Complex Audio Dramas' main priority had been to finish the story that was ultimately released as The Empire of the Dustbins Strikes Back!, and with that done, enthusiasm for the whole shebang ebbed. Worse, script editor Raymond Dugong was gone, and producer Douglas Phillips searched desperately for a replacement.
He needed someone who could cope with enormous pressure, an increased production schedule of three stories a year, editing up to four scripts simultaneously while wading through piles of submissions looking for diamonds in the rough, and of course have absolutely no kind of social life to intrude on this unpaid pre-production. And what's more, it had to be someone who had no will of their own who Phillips could control completely, a total butt-monkey slave bitch.
Thus, Phillips decided that freelance writer Joseph Medina was right to assume the mantle of script editor. His one effort for the SCADs, Dork Dreams, had been a complete shambles even by their high standards. However, Phillips was certain he would enjoy totally breaking Medina's spirit by forcing him to get scripts ready in time for pre-production while still worrying about what was happening next year or even two years down the line.
However, Phillips did not realize the destructive, anarchic psychopath hidden beneath Median's mild exterior - or else he would have realized that Dork Dreams' portrayal of UNIT as the biggest bunch of morons outside PBS scheduling department was intended to make everyone hate the concept and never use it again and not, as we all thought at the time, Median being a shithouse writer.
Medina immediately realized he had almost total control over the series and immediately set to work. His first act was to try and rid the SCADs of Dustbins - although they had been completely wiped out in the previous story, he knew someone would be dumb enough to try and bring them back and so what he needed to do was make sure that they weren't wanted back ever again.
Thus he decided that the first story of his editorship would bring back the only logical successor to the Dustbins' mantelpiece... THE TRODS!
The Trods were invented by those strange, strange creatures in the air, at sea and on land who worked for Mighty Midget TV Comic 21 - and, not prepared to spill out the cash on the Dustbins, invented their own incredibly camp alien cleaning machines, the Trods, to threaten the First Doctor and his illegitimate offspring John and Gillian. At some point around 1966, the MMTVC21 got the rights for the TV monsters and the Trods were the first up against the wall, having their botties soundly smacked by the Dustbins in their first ever appearance.
Medina considered this a travesty of justice and despite all the efforts he made to petition the writers of MMTVC21, he was completely and utterly annoyed. After MMTVC21 folded some ten years later, Doctor Who comic strips became the sole province of Doctor Who Magazine, and the Trods were never mentioned again.
Medina needed a writer that could come up with a story that he could completely hijack to use as a vehicle to bring back the Trods, a writer who would not be suspicious or upset when the story as released bore not a single damn idea the original had possessed, and ideally a writer Medina already knew so he wouldn't have to look hard.
John S. Drew was logical choice - an illegal alien from another planet, the homicidal losterform had penned "The Thyme Brokers" but unfortunately, due to some ancient Indian burial grounds and a crate of Absinthe The Drink That Makes You Want To Kill Yourself Instantly, the finished story bore near no resemblance whatsoever to Drew's original outline.
Drew simply assumed this was normal practice amongst "foreigners" (as he referred to those on low-gravity planets) and was thus fully expecting whatever story he submitted to be completely and utterly transformed into a contemptible ad-libbed orgy of violence and pop culture references... which was exactly what Medina intended to do.
Drew's planet did not quite understand the abstract concept of music and assumed they were subliminal instructions he was impressionable enough to follow without question. Thus Drew found listening to the radio a dangerous experience - listening to Frankie Goes To Hollywood lead him to relax and no longer control either his bowels or the car he was driving at the time; Madness' Young And The Old sent him on an embarrassing drinking binge; and 99 Red Balloons caused Drew to try and single-handedly trigger a nuclear war with America.
Drew decided that humanity was tempting fate and one day someone would write a song about invading the Earth and plenty of alien civilizations would be waiting there, like hungry Alaskans in front of an open tin of dog food dripping with marrowbone jelly. His submission, "The Apocalyptic Hit Parade" was gleefully accepted by Drew, who quickly altered the script so the other aliens would be annihilated by the Trods, establishing their bad-ass qualities forever!
At first the three other alien races were mere one-off space lizards and insects named things like the Goats of Punani, the Androgynous War Council and the Gwen Stephani Collective, but Medina wanted the Trods to prove their stuff against hardcore Doctor Who enemies. Since the Dustbins were no longer available what with them being extinct, the Cybermen were brought in instead, as well as the Snotarans and the Autons, all so the Super Trod could completely kick the shit out of the lot of them without breaking sweat.
However, disaster struck as Scott Harlow was named director - who was far too much of a self-righteous prig to simply be tricked into getting drunk and letting the cast do whatever the damn hell they wanted. Thus, Medina was forced to hand over the official, non-Trod script.
In order to create the artificial chaos required for Medina to smuggle in his pro-Trod script, the entire cast and crew were taken to a stage hypnotist and forced to ad-lib totally random and inappropriate lines every time they heard the word "action". The constant retakes and edits ensured that any material of the original script were removed, leaving only the finished product and it's special theme song:
"Invade the Earth!" by Black Nadir
You should all invade the Earth!
And enslave the Human Race!
The third rock from the sun
Would make a very handy base!
You can relieve the planet of
Its magnetic core with laser guns!
The concept may be old
But the execution is what's fun!
Melt the polar ice caps
And change the atmosphere!
We need the Ozone Layer
Like we need Brighton Pier!
Got lots of useful minerals
All underneath the ground!
But be careful of sleepy reptiles
While you're digging, keep it down!
Humanity's so adaptable
Mythologies for all, come what may!
It will only be a matter of time
Before we make your invasion pay!
So if you need a tactical advantage
Or a new world to call home
Don't wander past the blue planet
Which everybody wants to own!
Invade the Earth!
Is it tougher than it looks?
Invade the Earth!
It's in all the User Minor guidebooks!
Invade the Earth!
Succeed where so many others have not!
Variety of landscapes there for you to blot!
Humanity's been influenced
By the best of all ancient gods!
We're humanoid hominoids
Seriously, what are the odds?
And while I'm on the topic
Did I forget to mention
We're used to aliens arriving
With dubious intention?
So many of them came and went
Left lots of treasure in their wake
What more reason is there
To invade for heaven's sake?
So if you've ruined your civilization
Or sold your souls
Come to Earth for rehabilitation
Plus we've got rock and roll!
Invade the Earth!
It looks cute in space!
Invade the Earth!
Breed with the human race!
Invade the Earth!
Honestly, most other planets just suck!
Invade us, the galaxy won't give a flying fuck!
All in all we've made a mess
It's best we just confess
It's better in the long run
If you come and take the rest!
So over to you aliens
As you conquer this world of muddy rocks
But remember caveat emptor
When you see a police box!
But we're sure you'll kill the Doctor
*IF* you're certain of your faith.
If not, we recommend right now
You start to run away!
He's got a history of keeping Earth
Free from occupation
He also tends to make sure aliens
Don't get above their station!
Quite a lot have perished here
But you're bound to change the pattern
Nevertheless practice first
Try invading Saturn!
Invade the Earth!
You might live to tell the tale!
Invade the Earth!
Is it something about the whales?
Invade the Earth!
Like all the best have tried...
It might have been coincidence they all died!
Come on, all you unspeakably disgusting, slimy parasitic NOMADS!
INVADE THE EARTH!