SHAMELESSLY, I use the occasion to dust off again the best first paragraph of my career, a mesmerising, haunting, yea, almost poetic intro that couldn't fail to draw in the wavering reader.

It follows now, but this time – disappointingly – as my second paragraph.

Ah-hem. "A retired forester from West Lothian, who claims to have seen a UFO, is to have his trousers examined by psychics."

Now, while I leave you to mull over that bombshell opening, the scene switches to the office of Mr Tony Blair, a Prime Minister, in the year of that Lord 1998. The PM is under pressure. Let's take a close-up on his neck, where we see a bead of sweat gathering speed before – splash! —– it hits the collar of his soft-cotton, blue-striped shirt.

The increasingly damp Mr Blair turns to his grey-templed, grim-faced adviser and says with shaky decisiveness: "Get on to the MoD immediately. I want to know everything they've got on UFOs. I want to know if there's been a cover-up!"

Den-den! I've extemporised the dialogue but, according to new files released by the Wastemonster Government yesterday, I'm not far off the mark. Mr B had received a letter from a mysterious member of the citizenry alleging a cover-up and asking for all Government UFO reports to be made public.

Normally, the PM would have binned the barmy missive and returned to dunking his digestive in his tea. But the Freedom of Information Act was being introduced and he was concerned about the disclosure of classified information concerning alien life-forms, ken?

Once the tittering had died down at the MoD, a workaday civil servant was ordered to draft a reply saying the ministry had "only a limited interest in UFO matters" but remained "open-minded" about "extraterrestrial life forms". In other words: Bog off, Bambi.

However, that wasn't the only revelation from yesterday's 6700-page document. A policeman saw an alien craft hovering over Chelsea v Man United in the cup, and a Welsh hotelier witnessed silver-suited humanoids waddling aboot in a field.

My own retired forester had closely encountered a craft at Dechmont Law, near Livingston, and never quite recovered from the experience. A decent, quiet, teetotal (always the first thing investigators ask) man, he became world-famous and his trousers – ripped by spiky probes from the spacecraft – were passed around internationally for analysis, including by psychics.

The latest volume of impressive evidence – A policeman! A hotelier! Work with me on this – has prompted speculation that the Londonshire Olympics could be a prime stage for UFOs to put in an appearance.

Well, they certainly seem to have a thing about sport, or at least football, the only one that matters. Maybe, like every other advanced being in the universe, they just hate Chelsea.

I hadn't planned to watch any of the Olympics, as I've never seen the point of folk running aboot withoot a ball or bunging spears hither and yon or just jumping in the air. Besides, I've already had enough Unionist flags this summer.

However, if there's a prospect of aliens hovering over the proceedings, I might be persuaded to take a look. In the meantime, all my eyes are on yonder sky or, if there's nothing happening there – and there never is; it always turns out to be a plane – on the screen.

You can go on yon YouTube and search for the latest UFO sightings, as I do every 10 minutes. But it's disappointing. Lights. I'm fed up with ruddy lights. I want tentacles. A big eye. Claws, jaws, words on the side of silvery sleek craft ("This way up"). Anything but more ruddy lights.

The MoD chap tasked to investigate UFOs, or at least answer barmy letters, must have felt the same. In an email also contained in yesterday's files, he said that, by default, his post was probably the nearest thing to "UFO expert" that the Britisher people had.

And what did he do when he had a hot lead? Simple: "Google the internet!" The truth, it seems, is in there.