I arrive to Earth on a beach. A beach. A beach in Britain, that means rain, clouds, screaming children and, more importantly, the water that I’m up to my knees in is brown, even colder than my home planet and smells depressingly of urine. The upside is I’m dressed appropriately, I’m wearing what everyone else is, both women and men, a pair of beige shorts with an I’ll matched t-shirt slung over my shoulder.

I smile to myself as I look around, I may be dressed matchingly, but I have the muscles of my homeland, they have all either a beer belly or what they think is major muscle. I then remember where I am as seaweed wraps itself around my leg.

Several disapproving looks follow me off the beach. Children’s looks, obviously, only the children think swearing’s wrong. Major flaw in these humans, the grown teach the young rules they could never obey themselves, and the little mites are ignorant enough to think those rules are correct.

I take that back. The child that just ran into my leg has a larger vocabulary than I do. I like that child, but before I can swear back at them, they’ve run on.