The 1954 French flap:

THE "MARTIAN"
SPOKE OUR LANGUAGE

The time has come for the planet Mars and its saucers and other flying and smoking cigars: nothing like it to create a diversion; look up, we are told, and forget the earth, London and its agreements, Germany and its remilitarization, wages of famine and misery.

In truth, the saucers sometimes allow us to laugh a little: they allow the craziest fantasies which some happy young heroes of stories similar to the one we are going to tell you are fond of.

Once upon a time a gentle working man from Louvroil who wanted to make grown-ups laugh; was he taking himself seriously? No one knows: tall as three apples, he wanted to play "Martian", this new game he had learned in the newspapers, he took the few essential accessories, dressed in "Martian" fashion and began to wear it and started a tour of the coffee shops.

Imperturbable, the owner of the tavern to which he had granted his first visit, asked him: "What are you drinking?" "A glass of red wine," she heard him answer. Stupor, the Martian knew our languages ??and our wines?! Never mind, he continued his tour; more Martian than ever our hero performed a show of his composition in front of the monument to the Dead; a curmudgeon took the thing very badly and slammed a fist in his jaw. Our Martian, who knew a little about our way of life, went to complain in ... French to the police station. The most beautiful pranks on our earth sometimes end tragically.

Remember this story that made a city laugh and don't play Martian...

LOUVROIL

THE THIRTY-SIX STARS
OF THE MARTIAN PRANKSTER

We kept this story of the Martian of Louvroil for our readers' Sunday. And it will amuse a lot those "who do not believe in it", it will reassure the others.

One recent evening, "something" entered the town's café where an imposing municipal councilor sits imperturbably. This appearance, of small size, caused a moment of surprise among consumers that the owner nevertheless soon reassured with a: "Hey! Here's a Martian!"

Everyone, for a few weeks now, having a very personal image of the Martian, no client has denied these peremptory statements. The visitor also had the supposed characteristics of a supernatural and supraterrestrial being, with his tight cape, his big glasses, his feet half a league long, not to mention a belly of unusual prominence. His language was unknown. You could hardly tell if it was onomatopoeia or the deep sighs that betrays distressed hearts.

However, everything returned to clearly human proportions when the Martian was asked if he would "have a drink." The key phrase of the French vocabulary was very well understood by this hitherto undetermined being, who toasted generously at the counter. We had now recognized Dupont, this joker Dupont, who seemed to be having a good time amusing everyone after having worried them a little.

The rest was less cheerful for the "planetary" who wanted a little later to strike up a conversation with a walker. He was a North African who hadn't been frightened by all these stories of saucers, cigars and other flying melons. The reaction was immediate and unexpected: Dupont the Martian took an uppercut at the corner of his glasses which made him see all the stars in the sky.

And this is what you get with a simple idea to amuse one's fellow citizens. There are always some who don't like a joke and make it clear.

J.B.