Bad Taste Page #3

I'll have the head, Reg.|I want to suck his brains out.

We ought to go back to|get reinforcements.

- That'll take a day.|- And the rest!

Take two days to do|the bloody paperwork.

Yeah, and by then that collector|bloke could be dead.

If he's not really.

Look, we'll go in...

after midnight.

Well, guess I'll have|to issue a gun to Ozzy.

Yeah, but don't forget about|his personality disorder.

Open season on E.T.s, Frank?

Remember, Ozzy...

Get in quietly, get out quietly.

I certainly hope that is the case.

Sorry, Oz.|We won't be needing that.

Bloody Barry!|Bastard!

What are we going to do|if we're spotted, Frank?

Well, I guess we shoot the bastards.

My turn to the magnum.

I just wish we didn't have|to wear all this crap.

Yeah, but you know|what the rules are.

When we work undercover|we have to remain faceless.

Oh, I get it, just in case we kill|a lot of innocent people.

Don't you forget, we're only|authorised to use violence...

when there's a threat|to the planet Earth.

- And the moon!|- And the moon!

There you go, Oz.|Stick this stuff on.

We ought to have a look around.

If these are aliens, they might have|parked their spaceship.

They might have come|in a telephone box.

Well, let's just get that guy out|and will contact base...

and give them|the code-words for invasion.

"The bastards have landed."

"The bastards have landed."

I'll be there in a moment, Robert.

Welcome, my friends.|The job is almost done.

We take off for home tomorrow.

I'm sure you'll be pleased|to be leaving this shitty planet.

In the meantime I must impress|upon you the importance...

of remaining in human form...

no matter how awkward, uncomfortable|and ugly it makes you feel.

We are so close to success|that we must take no chances.

Right.|Looks pretty quiet.

- Probably all gone to bed.|- Jeez, I hope not.

Right, synchronise watches.

Twelve-oh-one.

Check.

Check.

Let's go.|We're on triple time.

The sad news is that|we will be heading for Nalic Nod...

with six of our co-workers|in a state of permanent death.

They died today,|murdered by some real arse-holes.

Robert escaped their clutches|and reported back to me.

My God!

What the...|My God... the blood!

Sh*t!

Somebody could get killed in here.

Vacuum the floors,|clean the windows and...

all the boxes must be loaded into|the freezer early in the morning.

We've been wasting our time|unless we can present samples...

to the Nalic Nod Fast Food Authority.

Isn't it amazing how you can fit|a whole town of humans...

into a few card of board boxes,|if you slice off the fat?

It's the value of keeping your knife|sharp and your mind clean.

Jesus, guys, Derek was right!

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