They were canvassing house to house (try political candidate or party member).
"Oh! Oh! I think we might want to miss this one."
The letter box was a suspiciously shaped blue object, the bin left out on the kerb was full of empty jammy dodger packets, and the clothes line, well it didn't bear thinking about! -- Anon Guest
Paula looked. Dangling in the breeze from the hills' hoist were three Starfleet uniforms she recognised and potentially three more that she didn't. Something frilly that could either be Lolita or Steampunk, depending on the accessories, and some strange shapes dangling from strings. One looked suspiciously like a human arm with a bite taken out of it. It was only the painter's tape and the newspaper on the bite that prevented Paula from phoning the police about it.
"Complete weirdoes," said Darren. "They'll talk your ear off about everything, including funding space travel when we have enough troubles on Earth."
"But," said Paula, "you believe that we should all sort ourselves out, right? No handouts for freeloaders?"