Good Omens

which extended automatically down to the road. Brilliant blue light shone out, outlining three alien shapes. They walked down the ramp. At least, two of them walked. The one that looked like a pepper pot just skidded down it, and fell over at the bottom.
    The other two ignored its frantic beeping and walked over to the car quite slowly, in the worldwide approved manner of policemen already compiling the charge sheet in their heads. The tallest one, a yellow toad dressed in kitchen foil, rapped on Newt’s window. He wound it down. The thing was wearing the kind of mirror-finished sunglasses that Newt always thought of as Cool Hand Luke shades.
    â€œMorning, sir or madam or neuter,” the thing said. “This your planet, is it?”
    The other alien, which was stubby and green, had wandered off into the woods by the side of the road. Out of the corner of his eye Newt saw it kick a tree, and then run a leaf through some complicated gadget on its belt. It didn’t look very pleased.
    â€œWell, yes. I suppose so,” he said.
    The toad stared thoughtfully at the skyline.
    â€œHad it long, have we, sir?” it said.
    â€œEr. Not personally. I mean, as a species, about half a million years. I think.”
    The alien exchanged glances with its colleague. “Been letting the old acid rain build up, haven’t we, sir?” it said. “Been letting ourselves go a bit with the old hydrocarbons, perhaps?”
    â€œI’m sorry?”
    â€œCould you tell me your planet’s albedo, sir?” said the toad, still staring levelly at the horizon as though it was doing something interesting.
    â€œEr. No.”
    â€œWell, I’m sorry to have to tell you, sir, that your polar ice caps are below regulation size for a planet of this category, sir.”
    â€œOh, dear,” said Newt. He was wondering who he could tell about this, and realizing that there was absolutely no one who would believe him.
    The toad bent closer. It seemed to be worried about something, insofar as Newt was any judge of the expressions of an alien race he’d never encountered before.
    â€œWe’ll overlook it on this occasion, sir.”
    Newt gabbled. “Oh. Er. I’ll see to it—well, when I say I , I mean, I think Antarctica or something belongs to every country, or something, and—”
    â€œThe fact is, sir, that we have been asked to give you a message.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œMessage runs ‘We give you a message of universal peace and cosmic harmony an’ suchlike.’ Message ends,” said the toad.
    â€œOh.” Newt turned this over in his mind. “Oh. That’s very kind.”
    â€œHave you got any idea why we have been asked to bring you this message, sir?” said the toad.
    Newt brightened. “Well, er, I suppose,” he flailed, “what with Mankind’s, er, harnessing of the atom and—”
    â€œNeither have we, sir.” The toad stood up. “One of them phenomena, I expect. Well, we’d better be going.” It shook its head vaguely, turned around and waddled back to the saucer without another word.
    Newt stuck his head out of the window.
    â€œThank you!”
    The small alien walked past the car.
    â€œCO2 level up 0.5 percent,” it rasped, giving him a meaningful look. “You do know you could find yourself charged with being a dominant species while under the influence of impulse-driven consumerism, don’t you?”
    The two of them righted the third alien, dragged it back up the ramp, and shut the door.
    Newt waited for a while, in case there were any spectacular light displays, but it just stood there. Eventually he drove up on the verge and around it. When he looked in his rearview mirror it had gone.
    I must be overdoing something, he thought guiltily. But what?
    And I can’t even tell Shadwell, because he’d probably bawl me out for not counting their nipples.
    â€œANYWAY,” SAID ADAM, “you’ve got it all wrong about witches.”
    The Them were sitting on a field gate, watching Dog rolling in cowpats. The little mongrel seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
    â€œI’ve been reading about them,” he said, in a slightly louder voice. “Actually, they’ve been right all along and it’s wrong to persecute ’em with British Inquisitions and stuff.”
    â€œMy mother said they were just intelligent women protesting in the only way open to