What's going on in there I wonder?
One way or another it's a lot busier than a normal month down there, deep in the bowels of ET's reproductive system.
There's anything up to a half dozen eggs or so all getting in each other's way, borrowing each other's clothes, and bitching behind one another's backs.
Shuffling slowly down those fallopian tubes, standing on the pair of heels in front of them, inching along and impatiently cursing their fellow passengers.
From the other end, Spencer and his crew have made several attempts to negotiate the most treacherous assault course known to humanity. If any of the lazy, disorientated, mutant headed gits even make it to the final hurdle they are in for one hell of a shock.
Up to now the last remaining wank warriors have only ever come face to face with one unwelcoming egg, making it easy for them to avoid having to do any bloody work. This time however, the milky explorers will turn that uterine junction to be faced with a scene out of some bad science fiction B film.
Half a dozen clomidically cloned zombie eggs looming large before them.
If past performance is anything to go by, that sight should be enough to start the swimmers slamming on the breaks and looking for reverse. It just takes one though, one with a bit of a swagger about him, one jack the lad, one with an eye for the ladies and stomach for a challenge.
Pick your target young man, choose your egg, turn on the charm and go in for the kill. Let this be the end of it, stand up and be counted, make a name for yourself, be the one to succeed where billions of your predecessors have failed before you.
I think I need to find a theme tune for this, to motivate, encourage, and inspire. I'm torn between 'The battle hymn of the republic' and R-Kelly's 'I believe I can fly'. Unfortunately, ET has categorically ruled out allowing me to pipe the music in by sticky-taping my iPod to her crotch.
Back to the drawing board.