All my days, am I moulding your clay...

In order to gets me grubby mitts on a potential £50, I did one of them there Surveys work about transportation into the office, where I had to justify my refusal to car pool.

So I thought I'd double check my condition. 

It's more than just aggro-phobia, it's actually xenophobia, with strong Caligynephobia.

So that's me fucked.

Actually, not fucked at all, on account of the Caligynephobia. 

Anyhoo, realising I has xenophobia made me realise James Cameroon's Aliens was wrong with it's depictions of H.R.Gigery genital-based grotesqueries.

"All we know is that there's still no contact with the colony, and that a xenomorph may be involved"

So, naturally, you would think xenomorphobia is a fear of space monsters. But think about it... if phobia is a fear of something, and xeno is strangers, then xenomorphobia is a fear of strange stop-motion terracotta colored plasticine blokes.

Which is nonsensical, as Morph was quite a nice chappie. It was the creamy colored Chas that caused all the havoc.

Ripley Foiley and Hicks Morph, going up against the Alien queen Grandmorph in the Sulaco Pencil Case, surrounded by multiple alien warriors plasticine Chas's!

Somewhere, in the dark and nasty regions, where nobody goes, stands a terraforming colony. Arriving in this dank & uninviting place comes Carter Burke ("Adiós, muchachos"), overworked servant of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. ("BURKE! Bring back a specimen!"). But that's nothing, compared to the horror that's powerloaded out the airlock. For there is always something out there. In the dark. Waiting to get in!   ♪♫  Don't you open that airlock (you're a fool if you dare!)  ♫♪  Don't you open that airlock (Coz there's something out there!)  ♪♫

Oooh, globbits!