I was made to look a fool today.

We were on a diplomatic mission to Faghita 7. The local dignitaries had laid on a spread of roast fencepost and deep fried skillets, which is a local delicacy apparently. We all sat round chewing carefully so as not to splinter our pallates.

Bones suggested that I offer a tour of the ship to our hosts. They all looked on as I announced my intentions.

"If you would all do me the honour, I would like to give you a tour of my ship. We have a fine crew and some fantastic cupboards you can snack on, should you get hungry".

There was a general murmur of agreement.

Excellent, I thought. A chance to show off that new starfleet badge communicator I obtained in a game of chance. I puffed up my chest and tapped it firmly.

"Scotty. Beam us up"

Nothing.

"Scotty! Put down the bottle and beam us up!!"

Still nothing. I tapped my chest again.

"Scotty!!!"

By now, all the dignitaries were looking at me aghast. The rest of the away team were laughing uncontrollably. I looked down at my chest.

Someone had swapped my communicator for a doorknob.

I looked down the table to see one of the Aliens happily covering it in ketchup and sticking it in a wooden bun.

Later on, I questioned an evasive Scotty about it, as the only way the swap could have taken place without me knowing about it would have been when I tore my shirt wrestling with him earlier in the day.

My interrogation was fruitless.

On an unrelated matter, I wonder why Spock refused this away mission.

It's the first time he's ever done that.

One of the Admirals came on board for an inspection today.

I was quite upset. Nobody told me.

After yelling at Spock for a bit, I composed myself and headed for the transporter room. I hoped the Admiral wouldn't notice the large white stain on my torn uniform and that he would forget the rather embarrassing 5 minute wait I had forced him to endure.

Admiral N. Surance introduced himself gruffly and looked at me like I was a dog biscuit.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been listening to this drunken idiot prattle on about the highlands for 5 minutes whilst you finished off some unspeakable act with a junior officer in your quarters, by the look of it."

I explained (rather well, i thought) that the stain wasn't what it looked like, and that I had a pet goat in my quarters. He looked even more horrified. I explained that it was the milk of the goat adorning my uniform and not the goats reproductive juices as he probably thought.

A horrible silence ensued

"Right. I've seen and heard enough already. It's testament to your reputation as the most woefully inadequate Captain in the fleet that I don't even need to leave the transporter room to know that you are completely incapable of performing your duties on this ship. You and this pathetic excuse for an officer are suspended. I'm turning over your captaincy to Science Officer Spock. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

There was more quiet unpleasantness.

Scotty asked if anyone fancied a belt of Scotch.

The Admiral turned to leave, without saying a word in passing i might add. As he did so, I had a flash of inspiration and shot him in the back with my phaser. He dropped quicker than a pop idol winner.

Scotty looked at me, boggle eyed.

"Ya cannae do that, Cap'n! You'll be courtmartialled."

I told him that if he valued his job, and the luxury of drinking whilst upon it, he would beam the Admiral down to the nearest class M planet with the necessary memory adjustments and tell the rest of the crew a story about the admirals crippling drink addiction and how we had to beam him off the ship for being unruly. We would be hailed as heroes by friends of mine in starfleets internal affairs division. They always wanted fresh meat. Especially from the top of the pile.

Scotty shook his head in disbelief and reached for the buttons.

Problem solved!

Khan and I played Squash yesterday.

He's been trying to goad me into a game for the last few months.

We have this tradition of competing every time we meet. Normal people just go out and chat, but somehow we always get sucked into a game of some kind.

Last time it was go karting.

He was about to secure victory when one of his tyres mysteriously exploded just before the finish line. I managed to sneak past and win. He claimed that I phaser blasted his off side rear wheel, but I think he's just a sore loser.

The time before that we went paintballing.

He was about to secure victory for his team by shooting me in the chest. Unfortunately the gas canister on his gun ran out. He claimed that I had deliberately lent him a half-empty one after his mysteriously went missing. I told him that I could never be so treacherous. I shot him in the eyes, just to be sure of the win.

Anyway, I won again yesterday.

We set up a Squash court in one of the larger transporter rooms. He was just about to secure victory by winning the final point when his racquet mysteriously disappeared mid-swing. Needless to say I won the point and the game. Khan was furious, claiming that I had beamed the racquet out of his hands just so I could win. I pointed to the ground where the racquet was and told him he must have dropped it. He asked me why the racquet was a different colour.

Heh heh! Different colour, indeed.....

Crazy genetically modified man!

Some fellow called Q visited me the other day.

I was on the bridge of the Enterprise listening to the greatest hits of MC hammer (a 20th Century rap legend) when a man appeared on the bridge out of nowhere.

I was quite annoyed because I was practising for an upcoming karaoke competition. I told him to go away.

He started banging on about how I was going to complete a number of tasks to prove that humankind was worthy of continued existence in the galaxy. If I failed he said he would destroy all humans in the universe. To prove it, he said he would destroy the Klingon Warbird we were currently sharing an orbit with unless I agreed to his demands, rendering the peace talks due in a few days redundant.

I munched thoughtfully on a bagel, considering my options.

I told him that i'd seen fridges packing more heat than him and he couldn't destroy a meat waffle.

He blew up the Warbird.

"What do you think of me now?!?" he bellowed, laughing wildly, clearly gleefull at the thought of yanking my strings.

"I think you're very helpfull" I said, giving Sulu the nod to flee at maximum speed. "You saved me a few photon torpedos there. Thanks!"

"But.. wha?...." he stammered.

"Well, I generally prefer war to peace" I mused, taking another bite out of my bagel. "There are so many more opportunities for me to do forward rolls and tear my shirt off. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to practice my Hammer dance."

He disappeared in a huff after that.

I guess the puppetmaster doesn't like being puppeteered like one of his puppets.