Brace yourselves – according to stats that we can’t find - the amount of UFO sightings has increased, and so has the amount of “closet believers”. Let’s slide past the conundrum that in a world where people feel comfortable Googling “Why is my butt so itchy?”; there are those who are ashamed to admit that they believe in UFOs. (There’s nothing wrong with believing in aliens - aliens are an awesome race of people with technology and new bubblegum flavours that far outstrip our own. Anyone else sick of mint?) Let us question instead this alleged rise in sightings.

What is it about this particular time in history that has got the aliens more eager to visit than that school friend you’re so anxious to cull? Is the world under attack? Is Earth the latest feature attraction to rich tourist aliens? Do the aliens need to know what Charlie Sheen is up to now that he has quit Twitter? (Heads up Aliens – it’s a safe guess that he is up to “no good”.)

Since the first photographed alien sighting in 1870 in Mt Washington, New Hampshire - aliens have been cruising through our neighbourhood and taunting us with their flashy transportation and un-catchability. Besides looking cool, it begs the question: what is their motivation? What is so satisfying about screaming through the air, moving back and forth a little bit, and then speeding off in the blink of an eye?

Considering the readiness with which people are willing to show their true selves, it’s hard to imagine why aliens indulge in these nocturnal flights that can give them practically no information whatsoever. Could these alien fact-finding missions really just be a bunch of teenagers who have taken Dad’s keys for the night? Because if my dad had owned wheels in the shape of a rocket, I would have gotten my L’s long ago.

In fact, the more we look into it, it appears that the aliens should be the ones explaining themselves and acting all ashamed. In the few thousand years that humans have been rollicking about, not once has an alien popped by for a cup of tea and to give their opinion on The Shire. They spy on us as if we were insurance fraudsters, and despite photographic technology, refuse to hold still for long enough for us to take a good picture of them. So buck up believers, you aren’t the weirdest ones in the galaxy anymore. Unless your butt is itchy.