We questioned why we’d need to be a part of their defence pact, when hitherto we’d known nothing of aliens.
They convinced us that we were soon to cross a threshold of coming onto the radar of advanced civilisations across the galaxy (including the nefarious ones).
To sweeten the deal they offered us something we couldn’t refuse: antigravity and force-field generation, the technology of our science-fiction dreams. They educated us in interstellar diplomacy language. We learned to speak the language of the stars.
Some time after that, we received a transmission:
The time for choosing teams is up, the first game will now begin. Those civilisations who are successful will progress to the next round. All others will be eliminated.
We were picked last.
๐ช
๐ป๐๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐ช๐๐๐๐ ๐ช 
Like Eurovision in Space ๐๐ค
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We could have a whole galaxy’s worth of contestants to choose from and still get nil points ๐คฎ๐คฎ๐
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We are def gunna make it a hat-trick this year have you seen the mouth breather we are submitting? It’s like when you stay up late on a Sunday night doing your homework and just don’t care anymore.
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Mouth breather!!! Such a brutal insult – I love it!! ๐ฌ๐คฃ๐ค
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He is though and indeed!!
It’s a classic but I didn’t create it however.
๐๐๐
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Not to be confused with moth breatherโ which are people with overly-bright car headlights.
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๐คฃ๐คฃ๐ค
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Being picked last is never a good thing..
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