Over the years, there have been many explanations for why alien life forms – if they exist – have failed to make contact with the Earth. But after extensive research, The Daily Telegraph can unveil the real reason: they have far too much good sense.

A month ago, we helped launch a competition to find the best messages to be sent hurtling into space, in order to mark the 50th anniversary of the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence (SETI) programme and the publication of The Eerie Silence: Are We Alone in the Universe?, a new book by the astrophysicist, Paul Davies. The winning entries will be announced this Friday (the first day of National Science and Engineering Week), and then beamed out into the stars from BT’s Goonhilly Earth Station in Cornwall.

We were vaguely expecting the entries to be uplifting and spiritual – messages of interstellar peace and love, that sort of thing. But how wrong we were! Almost 1,000 suggestions came flooding in from all over the globe, but they painted a picture of a planet that is such a miserable place to be that you wouldn’t blame ET for legging it back to his distant star.

For what would he learn about mankind? First, that we are vicious, creatures who have already done a great job of wrecking our home. “Please kill us now … have no mercy,” urged a gentleman from Indiana. “We are evil and you must defend yourself.”

“Keep away from this planet,” agreed Pamela from Sicily. “Mankind is only intent on depleting, abusing and destroying [it]. They will do the same to yours should they find it. Mankind is the worst virus in the universe. You have been warned.”

Nick from Calne was equally blunt: “If you manage to work out how to travel to us, don’t bother, as we’ll probably probe you, try to blow you up or worse still, steal your technology and invade… Have a nice day.”

Rob from Georgia, meanwhile, was prepared to throw the rest of mankind to the lions: “Dearest Aliens, If you choose to conquer Earth, please do not kill or enslave those of us who can name all 12 men to have walked on the Moon. We are the ones worth keeping around.”

Seema from Elgin had a compelling reason for ET not to bother with us: “If you’re planning to visit our planet, please know you will need to remove all metal from your person, take your shoes off and submit to a full body scan, carry all liquids/gels/aerosols in clear plastic bottles no bigger than 3.4oz, surrender all cigarette lighters and batteries, pack all jams and jellies (but pies can be carried on)… Oh, yes. Welcome to the Earth!”

As if all that negativity wasn’t off-putting enough, another theme came through loud and clear from the entries: even those elements of humanity that aren’t genocidal are terrifically needy. “Come and say hello!” begged Doug from Dublin. “You have already made our mistakes ages ago, come and tip us off and save us a lot more grief!”

“There are billions of us, yet we feel utterly alone,” lamented Stacey from Calgary. “We strive to find the meaning in our lonely lives, and maybe you can help us. Call soon.”

A more practical approach was taken by Gary from Dagenham: “Sorry to drop this on you, but we’ve kinda wrecked our planet. Any chance we could come live with you? We’ve got beer.”

Strangely, even those who could see the good in humanity wanted to warn our extraterrestrial neighbours about one particular element within it. “Whatever our governments may have done on behalf of human beings,” said Joshua from California, “we common humans deeply apologise.”

“Whatever you do,” agreed Richard from Texas, “stay away from Washington DC. No intelligent life there.”

Michael from Hawaii was equally firm: “Save yourself! Stay away! We have politicians!” And Marianne from Devon put a British slant on this theme: “I am a pacifist, but if the Tories win the election then please launch a violent attack with immediate effect. It’d be for our own good.”

Is humanity a lost cause, then? Perhaps not. Certainly, our entrepreneurial spirit remains. One correspondent was keen to get his hands on a faster-than-light spacecraft: “Must be free, in excellent condition, lifetime warranty and lifetime supply of fuel, maintenance and life-sustaining essentials. English-language manual a must.” “For sale or trade,” Andrew from Alberta was hustling hard. “Several billion tonnes of carbon dioxide. All reasonable offers considered! Must pick up, cannot ship.”

Karen from Nailsea was thinking slightly bigger: “Beautiful, blue planet, teeming with life, located on the edge of the Milky Way. Fantastic views of the Andromeda Galaxy and beyond into infinity. Perhaps the best location in the Universe. One trillion, trillion, trillion, trillion ONO. Must be prepared to look after current resident flora and fauna.”

Still, the prize for ingenuity went to Thomas from Abu Dhabi, who is no doubt hoping that aliens are unfamiliar with spam email: “My purpose of contacting you is to seek your help in transferring the sum of five million United States dollars ($5,000,000) to a trusted bank on your planet.”

And throughout all of the entries there was a yearning for an answer to the great questions of life and the universe. “Is this the only universe?” asked one entry. “Did you think YOU were alone in the universe?” queried Mrs Munro from Nottingham.

Religion, too, was a popular topic. “Please get in touch,” begged Dennis from London. “And if you could confirm that the universe was not created by God, it would answer a lot of arguments down here.” John from Preston turned the question round: “Two thousand years ago, we had a very enlightening visit from the Creator’s Son. Has he been to visit you yet?”

Above all, the messages confirmed that, how ever many alien species there may be out there, humanity can match them for diversity of imagination and interests. “Do you have crop circles on your planet?” inquired Kelvin from Telford. Michael from West Sussex was sure that they did: “Kindly stop tagging our planet with cryptic crop designs. Interplanetary graffiti is not the best introduction, so please express yourself with a bit more decorum and less like a disgruntled teenager wielding a spray can.”

One entrant wanted photos of alien celebrities; another issued an invitation to dinner (“Let me know your dietary requirements”). Pete from Westcliff-on-Sea confessed his love of the 4-4-2 formation and asked what approach the alien equivalents of Fabio Capello favoured. Andrew from Manchester wanted to apologise for the quality of TV that we’ve been beaming into space – or rather, “everything before and after Carl Sagan’s Cosmos” – while Gavin from Eastbourne was more blunt: “OK, ’fess up? What have you done with Elvis?”

In other words, the entries to our competition blended some of the best and worst elements of humanity – hospitality, aggression and curiosity. The first was typified by Suzanne from Chigwell: “Greetings from the pupils of GGSK College, Chigwell, Essex. Why don’t you visit us one day – there is ample landing space for one spacecraft on the roof. Please come on Friday, when we have chana and puri for school dinners. It is especially tasty.” The second, by Chris from Brisbane: “My inconsiderate neighbours’ all-night partying and littering is intolerable. Please come and take them away. I’m confident that they would prove worthy experimental subjects.” And the third by Jeremy from Borehamwood, who was looking forward to the aliens’ arrival for one simple reason: “There has to be something out there better than my mother-in-law.”

Source: Daily Telegraph

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