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Description
The ship floated above London. It looked large and alien, exactly as you might suppose an alien ship would look, but if you are now imagining how it might hover, gracefully, silently and effortlessly, don't. It wobbled as though it was filled with helium and caught in a tornado. The only thing it did effortlessly was cause devastation, as it wobbled its way across the London skyline, knocking chunks off anything sufficiently high, and stealing the television aerials and satellite dishes from everything not sufficiently high for it to knock chunks off of.

As it limped along (at a sprint), it garbled. It trailed noises you would only expect to hear in an arcade with all the games on at full blast, with frequent trumpeting sounds thrown in. Between the demolition of several buildings the city was really quite proud of, the stealing of all television and putting off diners in every restaurant and café in the city with loud raspberries, London was far from happy. Finally, after a few hours of wobbling, it gradually rose into the sky, pausing only to knock the spire from a cathedral with a horrible farting sound. This fell on a rather nice car that happened to be passing, and killed the Prime Minister.

As Britain decided it had maybe had enough now and was considering doing something about it, the spaceship trundled into the sky and disappeared, with the noise of a balloon the size of a football stadium deflating. And that was that.

Or so they thought. The next week, when everyone was beginning to disbelieve it had happened, despite all the YouTube videos, it came back. The spaceship flopped heavily out of the sky, in the manner of an alcoholic albatross, and with a noise like a balloon the size of Wembley stadium being blown up. This time there was no random destruction. It kept its distance from the rooftops, lolloping heavily along, followed of course by a curious crowd, all the way to the houses of parliament, which it promptly sat on. It sat in the rubble for a day and a half, while the rubble was searched for politicians. None were found alive, but then again no one searching was really trying very hard.

Various important people, news teams, police, the military and so on gathered to wait for what might happen next. It began to rain. Not the atmospheric special occasion rain from the movies, but the England usual, cold, damp, and carrying a kind of pervasive greyness that settled into everybody's minds and made them either irritable or cheerful, depending on what kind of person they were. A large hatchway in the side of the ship began to open. Everyone held their breath. It opened through one hundred thirty five degrees, touched the ground, and then changed its mind. Back through one hundred and thirty five degrees. Back to ninety. Forward to one hundred twenty five. Back to ten. Finally something jammed with a loud and decisive clunk, and it refused to open past seventy five degrees.

After a few hours, while a large portion of the crowd was a short distance away buying sausage rolls and pasties, the hatch was gradually ground open by a large robot, which proceeded to trip and fall into the Thames. It didn't come back out. A few hours later, after no further activity from the ship, the army and police decided to go and take a look. Twenty or so people disappeared into the increasingly heavy rain, and were last seen trudging up the ramp into the alien ship. The ramp lifted, and the hatchway closed. The crowd waited expectantly for some kind of play of lights or noise, Close Encounters style, but all they got was wet. After a few more hours, as it began to darken from grey to greyer, many had gone home. The ship lifted silently and effortlessly, and zoomed into the sky. The only noise it made, as it disappeared from view, was 'thwop'.

Description
The ship floated above London. It looked large and alien, exactly as you might suppose an alien ship would look, but if you are now imagining how it might hover, gracefully, silently and effortlessly, don't. It wobbled as though it was filled with helium and caught in a tornado. The only thing it did effortlessly was cause devastation, as it wobbled its way across the London skyline, knocking chunks off anything sufficiently high, and stealing the television aerials and satellite dishes from everything not sufficiently high for it to knock chunks off of.

As it limped along (at a sprint), it garbled. It trailed noises you would only expect to hear in an arcade with all the games on at full blast, with frequent trumpeting sounds thrown in. Between the demolition of several buildings the city was really quite proud of, the stealing of all television and putting off diners in every restaurant and café in the city with loud raspberries, London was far from happy. Finally, after a few hours of wobbling, it gradually rose into the sky, pausing only to knock the spire from a cathedral with a horrible farting sound. This fell on a rather nice car that happened to be passing, and killed the Prime Minister.

As Britain decided it had maybe had enough now and was considering doing something about it, the spaceship trundled into the sky and disappeared, with the noise of a balloon the size of a football stadium deflating. And that was that.

Or so they thought. The next week, when everyone was beginning to disbelieve it had happened, despite all the YouTube videos, it came back. The spaceship flopped heavily out of the sky, in the manner of an alcoholic albatross, and with a noise like a balloon the size of Wembley stadium being blown up. This time there was no random destruction. It kept its distance from the rooftops, lolloping heavily along, followed of course by a curious crowd, all the way to the houses of parliament, which it promptly sat on. It sat in the rubble for a day and a half, while the rubble was searched for politicians. None were found alive, but then again no one searching was really trying very hard.

Various important people, news teams, police, the military and so on gathered to wait for what might happen next. It began to rain. Not the atmospheric special occasion rain from the movies, but the England usual, cold, damp, and carrying a kind of pervasive greyness that settled into everybody's minds and made them either irritable or cheerful, depending on what kind of person they were. A large hatchway in the side of the ship began to open. Everyone held their breath. It opened through one hundred thirty five degrees, touched the ground, and then changed its mind. Back through one hundred and thirty five degrees. Back to ninety. Forward to one hundred twenty five. Back to ten. Finally something jammed with a loud and decisive clunk, and it refused to open past seventy five degrees.

After a few hours, while a large portion of the crowd was a short distance away buying sausage rolls and pasties, the hatch was gradually ground open by a large robot, which proceeded to trip and fall into the Thames. It didn't come back out. A few hours later, after no further activity from the ship, the army and police decided to go and take a look. Twenty or so people disappeared into the increasingly heavy rain, and were last seen trudging up the ramp into the alien ship. The ramp lifted, and the hatchway closed. The crowd waited expectantly for some kind of play of lights or noise, Close Encounters style, but all they got was wet. After a few more hours, as it began to darken from grey to greyer, many had gone home. The ship lifted silently and effortlessly, and zoomed into the sky. The only noise it made, as it disappeared from view, was 'thwop'.