Martian Emperor Flungolan Hobernontol was feeling confused.

‘But I thought we had a plan for getting rid of humans’, he said.

‘We did’ explained his aide-de-camp, ‘I met their spacerocket in person, and told them the story. I said, look humans. It’s all well and good for ye to get into a spacerocket and travel to Mars. Ye probably think ye are pretty clever in doing so. But let me tell you, the reality of life on Mars is not what it seems.

Sure, you might end up whiling away your days in a Golden Palace at the edge of an empty sea. Eating fruit that hangs from the Lumticule trees that sprout from the brilliant crystal walls. Or wandering about the courtyard collecting the wine that rains at dust from the Clontical mists. And drink it, and talk and laugh till dawn. And swim in the canals. And spend long lazy days drifting in Canochs on the sea of Phanassus. But.

All this comes at a cost. You will become old before your time. Humans are not made for this way of life. And you will come to regret staying here. But it will be too late. For your rocket will have turned to rot and rust. Any you will remain, and become unhappy.

So I say to you humans. Turn around. Leave now. And have no regrets.’

‘But if you said all this’, snapped the emperor, ‘then why are they still here?’

‘Would you believe, it turned out humans don’t speak Martian.’